[Growltigger]

Woundwort, oh for gods sake, call youself a suitable satanic lackey able to fun a cantina and terrorise it with the levels and intensity of cartoon violence expected from you??!!

Growltigga blows a whistle, and several Jean-Paul Gaultier clad fey looking Belgian sailors turn up (all called Henk except for the big one who is called Wuffles). Gentlemen, rectal explosives need inserting, that funny looking bloke in the corner who's lower intestine is ticking.

The happy laughing Belgians (there are some you know) giggle and sprint over to Rags, pin him down, rip off his troUsers and insert a 5kg C4 enema, attached to a large alarm clock/detonator

All done boss they say as they disappear off into the kitchen...

OK, to quote that famous song by Europe, this is the final countdown for Rags, I really did think that Raging Deadstar would be here to watch his arch-nemesis explode a la "one Last wafer thin mint sir" a la Monty Python -The MEaning of Life...

5 minutes and counting