Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader wants to relate to you a little incident of which he heard outside a movie theatre.

(Imagine Aussie accents if you will…)
Patron 1: G’day there mate. That was a pretty good film, eh?
Patron 2: Wha? Pretty good? Crikey! That was the best bleedin’ film you’re gonna see this side of Sydney.
Patron 1: I dunno mate. It was pretty good and all. But don’t you think that it wasn’t all it could be?

Patron 2: Whattya mean? It was artsy. There was plenty of violence. And it’s got that Jessica Alba in it. She’s hot mate. Really hot.
Patron 1: Sure. The film was entertaining, but it didn’t contain any of the required elements of an Aristotelian tragedy. In that respect, it didn’t adhere to a classical form; which as we call can agree is a requirement for superlative filmmaking.
Patron 2: What are you saying? You high?
Patron 1: I’m just saying the film is good. Not great.
Patron 2: I think you’re fuckin’ effete bastard. Who the fuck do you think you are mate? Roger-fucking-Ebert? You’re certainly fat enough to be.
Patron 1: Now there’s no reason to start cursing mate…

Patron 2: Whattya mean “there’s no reason to start cursing mate?” Of course there’s a reason. You’re fuckin’ mad. Mad. Mad. Mad.
Patron 1: Stop that now. I’m not mad. You’re provoking me.
Patron 2: Provoking you? Now you’ve gone round the bend my friend. Round the fucking bend.
Patron 1: Don’t say that. I’m just trying to say.
Parton 2: I don’t really care. Shut up.
Patron 1: I’m just trying…

Patron 2: Shut up.
Patron 1: No really, I’m…
Patron 2: No. Shut the fuck up.
Patron 1: I really don’t…
Patron 2: If you don’t…
Patron 1: But I…

Patron 2: Alright! You’ve ad it.

[Patron 2 bites nose off Patron 1 and flees into the night.]

Well… That’s what is might have been like anyhow.

Carry on.