A scruffy looking character shows up at the bar, grinning gap-toothed and scanning the room with his one good eye. He slides a leather gig-bag off his shoulder and lovingly draws out a beaten old Guild with a rude cartoon of a rampant unicorn in a state of amour drawn on the front in black marker

"Barkeep! Would ye tap a bastard a pint of bitter whilst I innerduce some old-fashioned Christmas spirit inter the proceedin's?"

"Here's a song my dear ol' nursemaid, Sandpaper Sally, used ter sing me when I was pickin' the lice outer her back hair ever' night..."

(noodling on an Em7 suspended yoho chord, by way of an intro, whilst hawking and launching a particularly evil-looking loogie into the spitoon... 2 points!)


"You're a bastard, Mister Grinch!
I hate
your fuck-ing
guts!

Without a moment's heh-zeetay-shun, I would kick you in the nuts,
Mister Gri-i-I-INCH!"


(hits a slow strum on the E demented chord in preparation for the too-long recitation)

"Now after a lifetime o' watchin' you maltreat yer little dog Max, an' mislead poor little Cindy-Lou Who, year after year after year after year... I really must say...

Your at-tit-tood SUCKS!"

"Ah, ye gotter luv the classics, wha? Where's that pint, now?"