The Large-Arsed Outrage
So you’ve gone to bed with two legs and woken up with only one. There in the corner of your bedroom you see the Large Arsed Outrage munching through what used to be your thigh.
“What the hell are you doing?” you shout.
“I beg your pardon!?” huffs the Outrage, outraged, its surprisingly upper-middle-class voice dripping with disdain, “can’t you see I’m busy?”.
You sit quietly until it has finished before registering your disapproval in the strongest possible terms.