There wasn't one, unless you count HPH wanting to call his spawn The Mailed Fist Of Righteousness, which really isn't on. Fair dinkum. Not a single variation in the bereft, Stygian, silent, existential void that I call my 'life', for want of a more apt term. Being gang-raped by Jamaican stevedores and set alight by transvestite Nazi lepers whilst being filmed by Al-Jazeera would constitute a brown streak in my otherwise grey existence. Mustn't grumble, even though I do, frequently and at length. What about you, eh? Go on, tell us... (Oh goody, I've just found a new stress zit on my scalp. How thrilling) P.S.; Happy New Year. Cunts.