I prefer not to.

The Painted Bird is seriously fucked up. I'd dig up the exact quote about what they do with the birds they catch but all my stuff's in boxes right now.

Sounds like Georgy's been reading some William Burroughs.

Undercover Fucked Up!

Damian Abraham seems like such a nice fucking guy, though.

I can't fucking wait to hear Fucked Up's fucking album
Seriously, if the rest of it is as good as the free tracks they released online, this is going to be my favourite album of the year.

Binky, all I really want is to say "No Pasta Ragu!" to the Nationalists.

The Floptastic Four from Gravity's Rainbow
Aw. C'mon. That was a close one though. Pernicious Pop's out to kill ya, good try, but they're already lurking in the audience, infiltrating their own story, Tyrone Slothrop's hiding in the Transvestite's Toilet as Maximilian bops along trying to explain black culture to the…

What about the superhero archaeologists from Warren Ellis's Planetary? Frost, Jakita and the Drummer might not show up in time to save my ass, but they could probably infer everything that went down after exhuming my corpse. They might even interview my ghost to add a little colour to their next travelogue.

In most situations, partial female nudity is more effective than kevlar.

No, but Gandalf could light some pine cones on fire, provided he found any. And then the Hobbits could recite poetry.

Plus Colonel Gathers, disguised as a big-breasted woman with a five-o'clock shadow. Works every time.

"Rabin's touching my side of the car seat!"

I'll take The Wild Bunch. I might die, but the Mexican Revolution will only grow stronger.
Tierra y Libertad!

When I was a kid, that episode where the Hawaiian shirt chipmunk gets bonked on the head, gets amnesia, and the bad guys convince him he's actually a villain… That terrified me. Because it could actually happen.

In addition to Vimes, I'd take Archchancellor Ridcully. Not to cast any spells, mind you. Just to indiscriminately wave a crossbow around.
Once we were done pulling the arrow out of the Bursar, we'd probably find that some unexpected hero had already taken care of the heavy lifting for us.

Try doing bicycle kicks while fucking saddle style to really give those legs a workout!

We have poutine. Disgusting, heavily congealed poutine.

No, Pervy Obit, don't take your anger out on me! Get back! Get back! Pervy - Pervy Obit - Nooo!

No barking from the dog, no smog. And Momma cooked the breakfast with peanut butter logs.