[dogscoff]

One wall of the Cantina suddenly explodes, the explosion triggering frenzied punk music. As the dust settles, an impressive figure can be seen in the ex-wall's space, backlit by ultra-high-intensity floodlights. It's dogscoff (of course) and he's looking pissed off.

"You had a Viking bar fight without ME?!?!?"

the enraged dogscoff wields some kind of new weapon. He fires off a few rounds to demonstrate it's capabilities. Processed meat flies liberally around around from the muzzle of dogscoff's patented Spam Cannon tm.

*Splat* A lump of Spam hits Raging Deadstar in the face, and RD is immediately overcome by an urge to give his bank details to the son of an ex-president of Nigeria.

*Splotch* Mac takes a faceful of processed meat and feels strangely compelled to boost his e-business' turnover by purchasing a database of over a million targetted email addresses.

*Splunge* GT is struck by the flying foodstuff and is overwhelmed by his desire to acquire non-prescription viagra at wholesale prices. Nothing new there then.

As dogscoff's Big Entrance Cleanup Crew repair the structural damage to the building, the man himself takes a seat and orders a cold pint of Hoegaarden.