I was talking to Bob once again, this time regarding possible 
activities for the final evening of term (this Friday).

Bob:	mind you, i think having a bet is going too far
Matt:	that sounds like you’re going to now outline what you think would be going just far enough.
Bob:	well, you know me
Bob:	i draw the line at a courteous hat-tip
Matt:	so true
Bob:	distressingly
Matt:	you must become BAD
Matt:	biker Bob!
Bob:	heh heh heh
Bob:	that’s an image and a half, i grant you
Matt:	it’s classic,
Matt:	the doors of Jim’s get battered open
Matt:	Bad to the Bone is on
Matt:	you stride in, in your big goddamn boots with metal on the soles
Matt:	black leather jacket, shades
Matt:	which would be bloody disturbing, by the way
Bob:	totally
Matt:	stride up to the table wendy is at,
Matt:	take out a cigar, and strike a match on your bum-fluff chin-hair
Matt:	then sit down on a chair the wrong way round, folding your arms across the top of the backrest bit and just looking at her from behind the lenses of your shades
Matt:	man that’s priceless
Bob:	you know what it is?
Bob:	it’s prime bob-and-wendy, is that
Matt:	hmm
Matt:	you do have a point
Matt:	no clues really implicit there though
Bob:	apart from bum-fluff chin hair
Matt:	that covers 80% of you lot
Bob:	ah go to hell
Bob:	i’m a motherfucking badass
Bob:	ooh, i like this!