[Growltigger]

Gt, suffering under a bombardment of putrid over-aged piscine thingies, pulls out his trusty tennis racket and proceeds to bat them off until the torrent stops coming.

Unfortunately, his tennis racket is now covered in smelly old fish entrails, and Erax is suitable upset as it is stuffed down the back of his troUsers...

This means war you old fart, says the mighty kat, he pulls out the hand cannon and attaches a hopper full of pickled eggs, pickled walnuts, pickled sheepballs and taramasalata, the LH clones dive for cover as the wretched spindle shaked old tosspot is bLasted into a morass of pink, picled and slightly fishy mess...

Gt walks over to the geriatic pile of puss and asks "when does the horde arrive and where then you old sod, I havn't seen the horde yet"