THE SHIT SANDWICH GOES ON...

BUFFALO: Dude, I've just been told I have a 5% chance that I'll live.

BIRD: Well, don't blame me that you're on the CIA shit list. I mean, those fooklars have NO sense of humour whatsoever.

BUFFALO: How da fawk was I to know they'd tap our Skype? I mean, you and me, we're just shootin' the breeze, innit. Messin' with the pessin'. Rumping the trumpet.

BIRD: Jealousy, dude. There are some comedians out there that can't take our cult status. They'll ask you a few questions, take a few jugshots, shove a meerkat up yer arse then toss you back where you belong.

BUFFALO: You don't understand, I've been implicated. I'm heading for the state penal tensionary.

BIRD: Dude, you're innocent.

BUFFALO: I know, but they need someone to take a hit.

BIRD: A fall guy?

BUFFALO: You got it.

BIRD: I see. So the shit sandwich goes on...

BUFFALO: Jeez. I need this as much as I need another asshole. Maybe we should come clean about Marcel DeClercq and Stewart Sumner.

BIRD: It won't make any difference.

BUFFALO: But the intercepts...

BIRD: Hearsay. Coded messages at best.

BUFFALO: Dude, if I'm Marcel DeClercq...

BIRD: A-ha.

BUFFALO: And you're Stewart Sumner...

BIRD: Right.

BUFFALO: Then who are the Bird and Buffalo?

BIRD: Oh, yeah. That's a good one. Well... they might just be the guys that Marcel DeClercq and Stewart Sumner aspire to being when the constraints of a tyrannical imaginary delusionary non-participatory gyratory construct are set free.

BUFFALO: Or total impostors who deserve all the fame and recognition that comes their way.

BIRD: Or a satirical monolithic retrospective vision of the future in the past tense.

BUFFALO: Wotdafachenbach! You've got it, dude.

BIRD: Collateral thinking, doncha know.

BUFFALO: Rock on, Marcel and Stewie!

BIRD: Seize the whey!

BUFFALO: Arf, arf!