NEIL: Guys, guys, guys, I think I've solved our cheap beer problem. I'm hashing with Pinelake. See what you think...[he reads from his letter] "Dear Bickering Prick Picker..."

MIKE: Yeah?

NEIL: Well, that's it. I'm quite pleased with it so far, though.

MIKE: Oh, well, it's a strong opening, certainly.

VYVYAN: I don't like the "Dear". Sounds a bit too much like, "will you go to bed with me?"

NEIL: Well spoken, Vyvyan. What do you think instead?

VYVYAN: Uh, what about..."Darling"?

[the guys concur]

NEIL: [writing] "Darling Bickering Prick Picker..."

RICK: No, no, no, no, no, not "Darling 'Bickering Prick Picker'", it's far too crawly bum-lick. Tell it like it is, put, "Fascist Bullyboy"!

NEIL: "Darling Fascist Bullyboy..."

MIKE: That's nice, yes, so far so good. So what do you want to say?

NEIL: Well, basically, I want to ask him if I can have, like, a shortcut to the beer, but I know there must be a better way of putting it than that.

MIKE: Well, what about, "Give me a shortcut"?

VYVYAN: ..."You bastard!"

[the guys murmur their agreement]

NEIL: Don't you think that's a bit strong?

MIKE: Ah, Neil, people like that respect strength.

NEIL: Yeah, you're right. Uh, "Darling Fascist Bullyboy, Give me a shortcut, you bastard..." Uh... "Love, Neil".

VYVYAN: Not "_Love_ Neil"! That sounds far too much like, "Come and get it like a bitch-funky sex machine!"

NEIL: Yeah, you're right...Uh, what about, "Yours sincerely"?

RICK: Oh, come off it, Neil. If you're going to be that sycophantic, why don't you go 'round there now and stick your tongue straight down the back of his trousers?

NEIL: Oh, look, I know, I know, why not, "Boom Shanka"?

MIKE: That's hard to tell, Neil. What does it mean?

NEIL: It means, "May the seed of your loin be fruitful in the belly of your woman."

RICK: Ah-ha! And what makes you think your hare's a man?

NEIL: Uh...His beard.

MIKE: He'll never understand "Boom Shanka", you'll have to write the whole thing out.

NEIL: Right, okay, here we go. "Darling Fascist Bullyboy, Give me a shortcut, you bastard. May the seed of your loin be fruitful in the belly of your woman, Neil." [he looks pleased]

RICK: Well, if that doesn't work, I don't know what will!