Went around to Andy Slackbastard's opulent yuppie townhouse to see what the haps were, only to find he already had company - Michael Burd had popped around to borrow some "sugar" and the two were in a heated debate regarding Occupied Palestine.
Andy seemed to have the upper hand, arguing that blocking humanitarian supplies to Gaza was necessary to weaken the resolve of Hamas militants, but then Burd pulled out his Green Left Weekly and started rattling off statistics about poverty and disease on the strip. It was an argumentative two-fist tango! Andy was on the ropes. He scrambled blindly behind him for the latest IPA Review, but there were none to be found. It appeared that Burd had landed a knockout blow on behalf of Hamas.
It was at this point that Andy resorted to physical violence, delivering a knockout blow of his own with a handy saucepan (the help had been making saffron rice).
"Fuck!" Andy yelped, "help me get rid of this body, dude!"
"Um, Andy... I don't think he's dead. He's kind of moaning a little."
"What!?" Andy cried in disbelief. I was also incredulous. It seemed to me that Michael Burd possessed the resilience of an expertly-trained Hezbollah operative.
"Where do you think he trained?" I wondered aloud.
"I'm not sure, but we'll find out when he comes to."
So we tied Burd to a chair and played some fucking Scrabble. I won 296 to 285. Thank you very much FEEDLO and S on an open T for FEEDLOTS and 50-something points.