The scene: Outside a US gun shop. View from ground level, man's legs visible from behind. He walks forwards, into the gun shop. Slowly. Accompanied by Western movie-style music.

Inside gun shop. Walks to glass counter filled with knives, kunckle-dusters and compasses. On the wall behind the counter is a large gun rack, filled with guns of large and vicious proportions. The man is now revealed to be ***** of the 4x4 Club. There is no-one behind the counter. Turns to camera.

man This is it. Here I am, in America, in a real gun shop. I'm going to actually buy a gun. Yes, a real gun. I'm going to get out there and shoot things.

Tailor 1: Good evening. And how are we today, Sir?

man taken aback, not expecting this: Fine. How are you?

Tailor 1: Murderous, sir, murderous. And what would Sir be wanting?

man: A gun!

Tailor 1: Now then, Sir, now then - Sir has to be a bit more specific. We have to have something to work with. Does Sir intend a full scale massacre, or an execution style gangland shooting?

man: Er... how about an Uzi?

Tailor 1 picking it up off the rack and placing it on the counter: Uzi 9mm, Sir? Fully automatic, Sir? Suggestion of Arnold Schwartzenegger in The Terminator, Sir? Ooh! Shoot you!

Tailor 2 appearing from nowhere over man's shoulder, wearing fatigues and Rambo-esque headband, but otherwise unchanged: Have you ever killed a man, Sir? With your bare hands? Just held his head in your hands and twisted (both demonstrate) with a dramatic snap? Letting his lifeless body fall to the floor? (exhales and pantomines slumping to the floor dramatically) "hehhh..." Isn't that how they go, Sir?

man: No... I... Er... (regains composure) Give me an AK-47!

Tailor 1: Very wise, Sir. I can imagine you, in the role of an Afghan tribesman, defending your lifestyle, and religious convictions, against hordes of faceless Russian soldiers. Off home afterwards, to a dish of goat-meat and some manly wrestling.

Tailor 2 jabs man in the back just beneath the ribs, completely winding him.

Tailor 2: That's where you get them, isn't it, Sir? Completely silent. Gets the, in the lungs. Or you could grab them round the neck (which he demonstrates, thus holding him still)

Tailor 1: We could do you some nice handguns, Sir. Have a look at these.

Tailor 2 releases him, and they all return to normal as if nothing has happened.

Tailor 1: Nickel plated, pearl handled Colt .45, Sir. We could do you a nice set of holsters - I can imagine you now (draws pair out of various imaginary holsters, stricking poses a la Taxi Driver), I can see you diving sideways, guns blazing, leaden death in all directions - very Johnny Woo. Ooh! Shoot you! (dives sideways along behind counter, miming firing)

Tailor 2: Has Sir killed anyone today? Or is Sir on the point of concluding the chase?

man: Er... No...

Tailor 2: This week, then? Surely Sir must have experienced the adrenaline pumping through his veins, seen the look of despair on the victim's face as he looks at his last few minutes on Earth?

man: Er, not this week, no.

Tailor 1: Now then, Kenneth, it's understandable that Sir should be a little apprehensive - not wanting to say where the corpses are buried. A true professional doesn't want to talk too much. Shows he's had training, doesn't it, Sir? What was it, Sir? SAS?

Tailor 2(in rapid succession): Navy seals?

Tailor 1: Spetznatz?

Tailor 2: CIA?

Tailor 1: MFI?

Tailor 2: DHS?

Tailor 1: How did Sir get here? Was Sir parachuted in? Did Sir bungee jump off an impossibly large dam, miraculously escaping cracking his head open when he hits the built in curve?

Tailor 2: How many nemesises does Sir have?

Tailor 1: Are they all disfigured by some unfortunate birth defect?

Tailor 2: Or did Sir mutilate them in a past encounter? Ooh! Shoot you, Sir.

Tailor 1: Shoot you!

Tailor 2: Shoot you. Does Sir know how to operate a rocket launcher? Very comedic, Sir. The white vapour trails, the explosion, then the enemies, hurtling through the air, arms windmilling, into a convenient swimming pool?

Tailor 1: Do passers-by scream when you open fire, Sir, or do they just run away?

Tailor 2: Are small boys impressed by your collection of weaponry?

Tailor 1: We have it all here, Sir.

Tailor 2: Katanas,

Tailor 1: Thermite charges,

Tailor 2: Flame throwers,

Tailor 1: Stun batons - Ooh!

Tailor 2: Flowers that squirt acid,

Tailor 1: Orbital laser arrays,

Tailor 2: Sharp sticks,

Tailor 1: Will there be a disembowelling?

man starts to look queasy

Tailor 2: Bones breaking?

Tailor 1: Blood squirting?

Tailor 2: Chest wounds going schlup - schlup - schlup?

They start to act out what they are describing.

Tailor 1: Will there be people lying on the floor, going "Aaargh, my leg! My leg!"?

Tailor 2: Will they be running around, shouting "Where's the sarge? Where's the sarge?"

Tailor 1: Will there be blood everywhere, and patriotic young fellows dying in each other's arms? (Tailor 1 collapses into the arms of Tailor 2, and looks up as if into some infinite space)

Tailor 2: Will a shotgum blast take his head clean off, so that blood comes spurting out of the severed neck and arteries?

Tailor 1: Will Sir be cut down in a hail of bullets, feeling the impact of each one pounding its way into his flesh, snapping bones and bursting organs, leaving his legacy of viscera smeared on the wall behind him? OOH! Shoot you!

Tailor 2: shoot you!

man faints in a heap on the floor. Both tailors look down at him.

Tailor 1: Well, Kenneth, I suppose that means that either Sir has heard the whistle of an incoming artillery shell, or that Sir is a useless shirt-lifter.

Tailor 2: Let's shoot him.