So earlier I watched Taken, which is one of two ‘classic’ action films I actually enjoy. As a rule, I don’t watch films where men are wearing suits on the posters, as this generally indicates that the film will involve guns, cars and depressingly perfect looking women, none of which I like. Fortunately in Taken, Liam Neeson doesn’t wear a tie, so he gets through my means test. I still spend a lot of the film behind a cushion, and have a tactical loo break during the torture scene. I’m not a massive fan of violence (unless it involves dinosaurs) and if things get too gory I do enjoy the occasional faint. but I was fine today. And so, to celebrate, I’m punning about weapons. I don’t like them, but it’s day thirty-four. Desperate times etc.
I cannont express how rubbish I would be in a fight. If I try and throw a punch, I’ll not only miss,ile probably end up somehow hitting myself. When we were younger, my sister and I weren’t very knife to each other, we didn’t just axe each other politely to stop doing something annoying, like rifleing through a personal diary, we just went at each other. It wasn’t simply cheap shots, I didn’t just taser all the time, cudgel have seen the level of violence you would have been horrified. I always tried to dagger around by her hair whenever she took anything that was mine, and one time she hit me in the face so hard that my nose bled, and I think there’s still bludgeon the carpet. It surprising we don’t jave lingering psychological trauma. One day, I’m gunna tank her for making me a stronger person, and for putting me on the straight and arrow.
Vaguely related joke:
Did you hear about the man who got his whole left side cut off?
He’s all right now.