During a classic stand up debate, argument or just a random chat in the kitchen waiting for the oven to reach 30 degrees, the boys would often be accompanied by the King himself. With somebody’s speech nearing an end, the great man would consider his thoughts on the matter, emitting a deep low frequency rumble just before launching his attack. This rumble was a take off from a normal peasant saying ‘Erm’, Villas would bellow ‘URRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMM’ whilst rubbing his chin – true philosopher style. Cars would stop, pigeons would make haste for the nearest rooftop, Ash Mahmood thought Airbus had launched the A380 jumbo, and even the rustling of a Skips packet ceased.
3 seconds of silence was followed by ‘I believe body shaves should be conducted with Mach 3’s, not BIC disposables’ . Shaken, the boys would retreat in silence to the living room to help Matt’s shaking hand regain that smooth, repetitive motion of loading Skips into his stunned peasant mouth. The Town Crier had spoken. Respect.