Rodge arrives in champion bath-time guise, complete with towel turban and (no doubt) a rubber duck. Having extolled the virtues of his new-fangled "sand and seaweed concoction" (great for exfoliating the skin, apparently), the dimmer twin is horrified to learn that he had in fact been scrubbing himself with the contents of Pox's cat litter box. Podge is unhappy with his brother's fascination with keeping clean, citing bath-time ("for ponces and ladymen") as nothing more than "an excuse to play with yourself". Cue one marvellous tirade (or tir-ayde) about "bars of Imperial Leather between your teeth", "hot water sluicing around your gels", and limp-wristed innuendoes - "oh, I must clean down there". Of course, there is also the buffing down with towels to consider, not to mention puffing one's self with talc, and a good pubic trim. Podge concludes by warning that "your bath might become your coffin", and launches eagerly into another gruesome tale. Enda Meeshan, who hailed from the spectacularly named Bigarsedladies, Lima, Peru, was studying genetic science ("the study of the very fabric of nature, and not your fiddly bits") in Dublin. By all accounts, the South American was a genius, and grew to become bored of his classmates, of whom he complained that they were holding him back. Enda began a little "extra-curricular activity" - grafting an ear onto a mouse's back (influenced by Ultraspank at all?), a nose onto an owl, a foot onto a dog, and his crowning glory - a lad on a lettuce. And so to the moral dilemna, if any - "ethics me arse". Enda could not risk getting caught, as there were strict and stringent genetic codes in place. He would systematically flush the remnants of his experiments down the drain, effectively removing all traces of his questionable activities. Until one day, whilst on the bog, he noticed an unusual scraping. Not "bloody rats", but something a little more sinister. Upon inspection, to his disgust, he noticed an eye in the plughole of his bath. And the eye winked at him. "There was something very alive in Enda's pipes". And then the eye spoke to him. Having navigated past the initial shock, Enda found his bath-dweller to be most friendly, and it materialised that they both supported the same band of over-rated Manc bastards. Hence they struck up something of an unusual friendship. Some time later, Enda met a young lady, and they began courting. The "ruthless bastard" began planning to rid himself of the bath-thing - "the bathroom was too tight for three to share"; his new woman was to move in with him. With this in mind, he poured sulphuric acid down the plughole, and departed, convinced that it was enough to finish off the strange creature. He returned some time after, alerted by a noise. And a big-ass hole in the bath. Seconds later, he was on the receiving end of a shower-rail-through-the-heart movement. The doorbell rang. It was Enda's woman Mary and the fiend from the plughole bounded down to let her in. She didn't suspect a thing - and why should she? The plughole monster was a soup of genetic concoctions from Enda's experiments, coupled with the skin DNA traces that he had left around the bathroom. And was an exact genetic copy of his creator. (Give or take a little sulphuric acid treatment). Without knowing it, Enda had advanced genetic engineering to a ridiculous extent. But what use was this accolade to him as he lay dead on the bathroom floor, skewered to his dead girlfriend? The plughole monster was never found.

On his way to meet the prostitute that he has arranged to meet one Monday evening, Rodge is accosted by his well-meaning brother. "What have I told you about hoors?" and "Hoors cost a fortune. Apparently". "52 pounds for 14 weeks? She must be high class. Must have all her own teeth". He inquires as to where Rodge is meeting "this goose". At nightclass. "She teaches prostitutes". Doing the maths, Podge asks if perhaps the lady in question had intoned that she was a substitute teacher. Needless to say, he is right. And he digresses. "Illicit relationships will only end you in hot water". And taking the case of the Backdoor Man as an example. Flush Lavatory (a silk-shirted, moustachied, open-shirted, gold jewellery sporting, through-and-through Dub) and his wife Nuala had just moved into the new housing development at Godownonme Crescent. Flush was most unhelpful as his wife set about the decoration tasks - "don't you know I'm happier with a remote control than a paintbrush?" When their new neighbours arrived, Nuala was adamant that they make them feel welcome. Flush had other ideas. "Ah feck the neighbours. Once they don't have any dogs dumping on me garden or children for that matter, we'll get on grand". How and ever, his tone changed when he caught sight of his new neighbour, Sheila Feelit. "Jaysus, I could certainly give her a hand". She was, evidently, easy on the eye. "The full four courses with tea or coffee and a complimentary mint". "A 6.5 on the Wrister Scale". Flush recanted, and invited himself around next door - "I'm feeling fierce neighbourly". He was all over Sheila like a cheap suit. Their respectives spouses both worked on Saturdays, leaving Flush to hop around through the back door, to the waiting Sheila. In hot snot fashion, naturally. One Saturday, it just so happened that Flush's wife and Sheila's husband, Finbar, both had half days. Nuala suggested that the Lavatorys have the Feelits around for an inpromptu barbeque. Was Flush about to complain? Was he fuck. Nuala went inside the house at one point for some jacket potatoes, and returned with a shotgun. She knew of the affair - "you bitch!!", and shot Sheila at point blank range. She then turned on her unfaithful husband, but Finbar threw himself in the way, catching the bullet that had been intended for Flush. "Jaysus, you stupid cow. You've killed the bleeding neighbours. What are the Residents' Association going to say?". He offered to pop down to the cop shop to explain the little bloodbath, and promised that all would be well. "Me wife's gone bleeding mental and killed the neighbours". The Siocas accompanied him back to the ranch. Where Nuala and Finbar are just arriving home from work - in their work clothes. Claiming that they know nothing of what had just gone on. Leaving Flush to explain one dead body, the blood on his clothes, and his prints on the shotgun. He received life in prison for his troubles. The second bullet used had been a blank : Sheila and Flush hadn't been the only ones enjoying extra-marital affairs. "That's some sting". Podge concluded by smirking that in prison, Flush was still very much the Backdoor Man. "You'll never be lonely in prison". (Potential inspiration for Fester and Ailin, there).

"Is the jacks free?" "Give it twenty minutes - I've a dose of the rat". Podge then notices the array of rings, bangles and nail varnish on his brother's hand, and scolds the "ladyboy". Rodge attempts to save face, claiming that such tomfoolery affords him something of a "lady's touch" for his impending date with Pamela Handerson. "You are a sad little man". And a sad little man facing a life of affected sight if he continued down that solo path. Rodge scorns the old wives' tale, but is hastily faced with the story of Franky O'Friction, a businessman who was extremely fond of spanking the monkey. Of the sausage bungee. Of popping the pink lizard. Of pummelling the pudding. Franky's job took him all over the country, with regular stays in hotels as routine. To while away the lonely hours, he turned to the millions of "saucy" sites on the Internet. Examples being www.flesh.com, www.cum.com, www.enormoboobs.com and www.wetandwild.com. He wasn't, however, such a fan of www.livefrogsupmearse.com. With such a vast array of porn available to him, he was never disappointed. "Whatever tickled his fancy, he tickled his fancy". And soon after, his sales figures began to slump. His eyesight began to deteriorate - "turning Japanese". He tried wearing glasses, but they would slip off his nose as the vibrations from his turkey-jerking travelled through his body. He had decidedly more success with contact lenses. They worked perfectly. "He whacked away at himself for a week" before falling exhausted to sleep on his laptop. And woke 48 hours later with pain seering through his eyes, in complete darkness. The heat generated by his laptop had melted the plastic of the contact lenses into his corneas, blinding him completely. Rodge's humane response - "www.tragi-wank.com". Podge then reconsiders the sordid intentions of Rodge's ladied hand, and asks for the use of his brother's digits. "Just hold it".

In a rather sporting opening shot, we find Podge in golf-ponse gear, and Rodge in G.A.A. shirt with hurley. The latter is complaining of having broken six ribs in a clash, and muses over joining the safer confines of Podge's golf club. Padraig scoffs at the notion, claiming that "scum" like his brother would not be made welcome, and that golf clubs are not necessarily as safe as Radraig would like to believe. "More people have died on golf courses in Ireland than in the Famine". He races into the tale of Glengobble Golf Club, starring Jimmy "Clint" Eastwood - "a bit of a cowboy", by all accounts, no stranger to brown envelopes (quick - get another tribunal going, Dublin Castle) and all kinds of skullduggery. A favourite ploy of his was to scour through the obituaries, and land on the doorstep of a fresh widow, offering to take her dead husband's land off her for a "reasonable" price. Unable to make any sense through their grief, his victims would always succumb. One day, he came across a large field at the base of Hairy Mound Mountain. The owner, one Patch Kehoe, was most reluctant to sell. But Clint persisted. To no avail. He approached the County Council, and returned swiftly with a compulsory purchase order. Patch Kehoe's field was hindering the construction of Clint's new road leading to the proposed clubhouse. Defeated, Patch roared "that field's not…". and dropped dead. Six months later, at a cost of millions, the golf course was ready. It had been designed by a top pro - not Jack Nicholson, Severe Bollockstero, Todger Woods or Prick Faldo, but Willie Stroker. A true golfing champion. "A bit of a Master beater, then". Podge gamely opts to "ignore that on the grounds that you're slow". On the opening day, Clint and Willie set off on the inaugural round. Clint was playing well, and enjoying himself, until the first pro dropped dead in the bunker. "For the love of Sister Mary Bernadette and the seven shaven-headed lepers". And then another died. And then Willie had a seizure on the eighteenth green. Clint impaled himself on his own putter before completing his all-important round. It turned out that the golf course had been built over an ancient ebola grave. The grave had been holding the virus and those that had fallen foul of the 1720 outbreak. The golfers had disturbed the sleeping virus by licking their balls - placing their tees in the ground, and the holding their tees in their mouths. "So they died from licking their balls?" Indeed. Podge reconsiders his brother's hopes of joining his golf club, and outlines their own unique initiation ceremony. He places a target on Rodge's mush, and takes an almighty swing at a stationary golf ball. The ball pings around the room at speed before nestling itself snugly in Rodge's gob.

Rodge is teasing Pox with a mouse, using the excuse that he is training the mange-ridden feline. Podge claims that he's wasting his time, to which Rodge proudly responds by citing Pox's arse licking abilities as a trick he himself had taught the cat. Nonetheless, Podge reprimands his brother for giving so much attention to the pet, launching into the details of Mad Dog McGuire - "an infamous bastard", ex-gangland man and fishmonger's assistant, known for gutting "from gill to gullet". He was eventually hooked by the authorities, and jailed. On his release, he went for the straight and narrow, moving into a new home with his loud-ass motherfucking barking dogs. One day, Pascal Rench, a representative of the Residents' Association, called around to ask that Mad Dog exert some control over the afore-mentioned canines. Mad Dog was having none of it, and thumped Pascal. Days later, his dogs escape from the confines of his garden, but their owner wasn't bothered enough to chase after them. Sure enough they returned - with a body. The dead body of Pascal Rench. "For the love of Saint Dolores and the Cranberries". "A lesser man would have shat himself", but Pascal efficiently took the body, washed and stitched it up, and placed it in a drunken position back on the street with an empty whiskey bottle. Lieutenant Luke Lad of Limerick C.I.D. was around like a hot snot, informed Mad Dog of the discovery of Pascal's body. "Isn't that a fecking tragedy?" It was when the copper went on to tell him that Pascal Rench had died three days earlier, and been buried in his own back garden under his prize rhododendron bush. When her dead husband had showed up on her doorstep three days later, poor Mrs. Rench had died from the shock. "Some sick bastard dug him up, and took him out for one last night on the town". "There goes the neighbourhood", offered Mad Dog, before retreating into his home and shooting the dogs. Rodge then puzzled over how to get Pox to drop Rolf the rat from his jaws. Podge mentions a radical new technique, which involves the insertion of fingers in the cat's ass. His dim brother complies, and the cat lets the rat slip. And then Rodge finds his fingers stuck between a cat and a warm place. "Oh, they haven't figured out how to get it out yet".

"Ballydung Radio - long wave, long wave". This broadcast begins with the happy news that Jimmy Durgan has found his leg. Then it was over to D.J. Rodge for the weather report - "mild". D.J. Podge mentions that it is a special day indeed, as the Screw You porno shop is celebrating 17 years of business. Father Flange is scheduled to make an appearance during the day, and the two boys put in their sponsorship claims - much talk of "I've got a raging horn", and their chosen magazines - "Butt Specialist", "Trollops On Tractors" and "Naked Bungee Babes". Fester and Ailin are then congratulated for charting at number 184 with "You'll Never Be Lonely In Prison", and Podge goes on to list their impending tour dates.

3rd - Wanklestown Community Centre
5th - Madge's Honey Pot, Fiddler's Minge
6th - Dunashite
7th - Pubicán Creamery Charity Night
8th - 11th - Ballybollock Seaside Festival (also featuring Slut Puppies, donkey roast at 8pm)

We are then blessed with Fester and Ailin's own appreciation of the services provided by Screw You, as they launch into "Ireland's First Pornography Shop". Another catchy ditty, lauding "products that disgust or titilate you", and "photos of vertical smiles". The chorus? "It was Ireland's oh Ireland's first pornography shop, the moral majority wanted it stopped, but the people of Ireland stuck up their free hand, we don't want our porno shop banned". Not to mention a rather memorable breakdown section. The broadcast ends with Ambrose MacAuley, the singing surgeon, with "You're Like My Anchor".

Rodge arrives home from a "shocking painful" operation - there had been a mix-up of some kind, but Podge wasn't interested, gamely admitting that he "couldn't muster the enthusiasm" to have given his brother the lift that he'd promised. Cue one 15 mile trek for Radraig. His doctor had advised him to take up a little light exercise, which meant Irish dancing, as far as Rodge was concerned. "You go ahead and dance the arse off yourself, you'll only end up like Seamus McAnus, you scuttering gobsheen pup". Seamus had dazzled people with his dancing skills at the age of three, and by the time he was 18, he was national champion. Not exactly the most gracious or honourable of champions, mind you - the little bastard was more than willing to cheat whenever the opportunity presented itself. And he was not happy being just the national champion. "He had an ego the size of Bellturbit", and wanted the world crown. But this proved to be outside his range of capabilities. One day, he received a phonecall from a mysterious stranger claiming to "know the secret of dominating the world of dance". Seamus agreed to meet with the stranger, an old man, in a flat in Mullinasnot. Once there, he was given a pair of old brogues. Overcoming initial snotty scepticism, Seamus tried on the shoes, found that they were a perfect fit, and in them, he danced like he had never danced before. The old man fell asleep, and Seamus ran, or rather danced away, the brogues still on his feet. Soon after, he was crowned world champion, but discovered that he could not take the shoes off. Even as he slept, his feet were still dancing. He came to hate dancing. And returned to the dingy flat in Mullinasnot to seek the old man's advice. The old man displayed ghastly stumps where once his feet had been. Footless cripples began dragging themselves into the room, a collection of former dancing champions who had all fallen victim to the black brogues. One of them handed Seamus a rusty saw. It was the only way to stop the dance. As Rodge reeled in disgust, Podge reached for the shopping, criticising his brother for only picking up one sausage, and chewing on it greedily. Rodge hastily finished his little mix-up tale - the doctors had confused his operation with that of Pansy Flander, who was demanding a sex change. Hence it was Rodge's unnecessarily severed cock (the doctors planned to reattach it in the morning) that Podge was chewing on. A bout of industrial retching followed suite.

Podge begins by reprimanding Rodge's trip to the big smoke (Mullingar), and in particular to the supermarket. "Are you sick or excited or what?" He launches - rather dramatically - into the tale of "THE MAN IN THE ARAN MASK". Garvan Quick was something of a "dry shite", the manager of a SmartValu supermarket, but his mild-mannered existence hid the devious criminal mind underneath. Garvan used to disguise himself in a mask hewn from an old Aran sweater, and prey on shoppers, lying under their cars, and then slicing through their Achilles, stealing their wallets as they lay disabled. He loved the publicity he was receiving as a media frenzy developed around "THE MAN IN THE ARAN MASK". One evening, to his horror, Dan Doyle, newsreader extraordinaire on the Sex One Neus, announced that the elusive criminal had claimed his first kill. But Garvan hadn't killed anybody. With a copycat killer on the loose, he could do nothing more than lie low. He hid his Aran mask under the floorboards in a closet. The killings continued, each one attributed to "THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK". Lieutenant Luke Lad called around. Garvan watched in terror as they searched his home, finding the concealed hiding place in the closet, but finding no mask. Relieved, Garvan thoerised that perhaps his wife had moved the mask. He would have to explain himself to her, and beg her forgiveness. It would be better than if the police had found the mask. Shortly after, the phone rang. It was his wife. She asked if he could come and collect her from the supermarket car park. As he stepped from the car, looking around for his wife, he felt the searing pain as his wife, lying in wait underneath the car, slashed at his legs. She killed him there and then, and the police never did catch "THE MAN IN THE ARAN MASK". Rodge then proudly recounts his bargain find - one pound for a shopping trolley.

Podge notices an unusually vile stench eminating from his brother, who claims that it's one of those love potions, designed to "get ladies' juices flowing", as purchased in the Buggerhill Porn Shop. ("Sixty-Nine makes ladies mine"). Podge is of the opinion that his twin is wearing "cat piss". He mentions something about "unnatural methods" leading to death. Ever aware, Rodge "feels another one of your tales coming on". Sure enough, Podge begins to speak of Willie Shuvin, "a decent enough stick", but "with a face like it had slid in shite". Or something. As such, he didn't have a lot of luck with the ladies. When his eye fell upon one particular beauty ("all three Corr sisters rolled into one"), he was smitten. He tried his hand with her desperately, but was turned down. Unable to give up on her, he turned to the local sex shop, asking for a love potion. He shelled out 100 squids on the potion, and the assistant in the House Of Wank warned him against using any more than the designated two drops. Needless to say, the heavyweight intellectual dumped the entire vial of potion into his would-be woman's tea, and she drank it off. Soon after, his desired female could not take her eyes off him, and they began to date. For two weeks, it was great. She never left his side. He was delighted. But soon enough, the never-leaving-his-side thing began to lose its appeal. She called to his office with picnics when he was working late, read the same books he was reading, and settled down to watch football matches with him. He couldn't even take a shit in peace. He began to get sick of her. He was being smothered with love. It became apparent that he had but two options at his disposal - to kill her, or to kill himself. And he was no murderer. So one evening while she was washing her hair, he stuck his head into the oven, hoping to choke on the fumes. And he nearly got there. He was completely paralysed, and in a deep vegetative state when she found him, and pulled him free. The doctors claimed there was nothing they could do for him, that he would remain in that state forever. To which she happily added that she would be looking after him twenty-four hours a day until he died. Even in death Willie couldn't separate himself from her. Rodge's potion begins to have a potent effect on Pox, who starts humping the dimmer twin's face energetically. And then there follows some disturbingly satisfied moans of pleasure.

Rodge is reading his latest self-help book - "How To Get A Ride". (Sample instructive quote - "Hello, how are you? Oh, your breasts are fierce impressive, so they are" - not a million miles away from Fred Durst's appraisal of Heather Locklear). Among the other "DIY lifestyle" tomes that Rodge recommends are "The Home Sex Change Guide" and "Doing It With Your Dog". He mentions a chapter on multiple partners, and Podge's ears prick up. "Menage a trois?" "Does that have garlic in it?" - to which Podge attributes his newfound "arse ache". He tells the tale of Larry Lang, or Banger Lang, as he was known. He was one of those Casanova builder types, who nonetheless had surprised everybody when he settled down with his new wife, librarian Bridget O'Brien. Of course, what they didn't know was that he was also married to barmaid Nora Floradel and lapdancer Vixen Beaver. His trade took him all over Ireland, and as such he was able to continue his triple life without ever being caught. Each woman offered him a different option - if he wanted a quiet night in, Bridget was a perfect bet. Nora was good for free beer and a shag, whilst the exotic lapdancer Vixen belonged to a world of exploration and adventure. (Nothing to do with smothering one's self in "beef stock cubes and setting the dogs loose", though). And it was all going so well for Banger until one day in Colostomy Meats, when he was picking up a ham for the boys on the site. He was chatting up the shopkeeper, until she informed him that she knew his wife. Banger made his first mistake, in using the name of one of his other two wives, and not Vixen's. She corrected him, amused that he could forget his own wife's name, and he panicked, running from the shop, leaving the meat behind. Later on, Banger received a most suggestive phonecall from Vixen, ("super!"), and hotfooted it around to her place, where he was tied and spreadeagled to the bed in preparation. And then Nora and Bridget turned up, and he was faced with all three wives at the one time. The shopkeeper had called Vixen, arranging the collection of Banger's expensive ham, and telling the funny tale of how her husband had forgotten her name. It had only been a short step from there to going through his mobile phone records to suss out the whole story. And despite his suave bravado ("I'm sure we can come to some arrangement"), they all wanted a piece of Banger. So they took a circular saw to him. Rodge moves swiftly on to his self-gratification manual - "Hand Solo". He expresses surprise at the use of sandpaper, and sings the praises of the "inspirational photos" at the back, only to discover that they are stuck together. Podge claims to know nothing.

"The Ballad Of The Field Mouse" ushers in this latest broadcast from Ballydung Radio - something of a sombre day, as the boys are reduced to seeking donations to keep their pirate station afloat. Shooting licence inspectors has proven to be an unsatisfactory way to go about their business, so they're looking to raise fifty pounds to offer as a bribe instead. (The licence itself being far too expensive). Tommy Gussett And The Big Brass Horns are up next, with their "Haystacks And Hoors" single, as recorded in Nashville, before making way for Fester & Ailin's "Prison Song". The chorus? "You'll never be lonesome in prison, no you'll never be lonesome at all, although you're locked away you'll get cuddles all day, and a pat on the bum from the warden". The song would also guarantee that "if you're in for life, someone's shagging your wife". The accompanying video complimented the sentiments entirely. Becoming desperate for money, Podge announces that D.J. Rodge will start losing fingers if the necessary pledges of cash are not forthcoming. And Ambrose MacAuley is at number one in the charts.

Rodge, in splendid butchered sheep costume, is preparing for the (abbatoir) office Christmas party. His brother discards the "lamb to the slaughter" pun, and pronounces him to be a "jumped up ponce". "Most Christmas parties end in tears", apparently. He cites the following tale as an example. Rudi Member and his girlfriend Jenny Talia were both employed by the same software firm. (Rodge likens himself to more of a "hard" drive man, whereas Podge sees it as being more of a "floppy disk"). Anyhoo, Rudi's stupid woman has a run-in with their boss, and is let go. It is, admittedly, an unfair dismissal, but she can't challenge the decision, for fear of Rudi suffering any extra repercussions. Months pass, and Rudi comes home one evening with invitations to his "wizzo" office party. Understandably, she doesn't want to go. Rudi heartlessly decides to go anyway, disguised as a devil, while she stays at home with a video. Soon, her mind begins to wander, to the party years ago where they originally met. She is missing her man, and decides to go to the party - in full disguise, nobody - not her former boss, not even Rudi, could recognise her. It would be a super surprise for him. So she turned up at the party, in costume, and moved unnoticed through the throngs until she found Rudi. Without a word, she took him into the photocopying room, fucked him senseless, and left. When Rudi arrives home, his girlfriend coyly asks how his evening had been. He explains excitedly how he had showed up at the party, found somebody wearing the exact costume as he had on, and buggered off playing cards instead. And won five hundred pounds!! Jenny listens in horror as he confides that his boss, Mr. Brown, "shagged some trollop on the photocopier", and promised to have some "pretty revealing photocopies" at the board meeting on Monday. She had never before so regretted getting that rose tattoo on her ass. Podge then discovers that he had "forgotten" to wind the clock, thus tardying his brother, who admitted likely defeat regardless to flash bastard Willie Burrough (he of the combi-muck spreader), with his superior "greased leper" costume.

Going through some old Christmas presents, the boys come across their Junior Stoat Trap, the broken bottles that Santa had left one year, the Little Boys' Pet Dissection Kit, a video tennis game (which might have been that little bit more fun had they a television to plug it into), and Rodge's magic kit. Podge remembers fondly what their dead father used to call his son when all dressed up - "a little fecking magical bastard". "What was it he used to say?" "Go out and play with that farm machinery". And ultimately, "no son of mine will be a poncey ladyboy magician". This leads nicely to the woeful rime of The Magical Splendercock. Phillius was a down-on-his-luck magician, pulling three card tricks on street corners, going nowhere fast. One day, a businessman approached him, making him an offer he could not refuse. The businessman offered to provide Phillius with the necessary finance and an assistant - all the magician had to do in return was to go and work for his benefactor when called. He was introduced to his new assistant - an absolute minx, by all accounts, who had worked with the likes of David Copperknob and Harry Hoordini. She asked that Phillius leave all the details of his complicated tricks to her, and pretty soon he started to make a name for himself as a top magician. "Did he dip his wand in her magic circle?" Unfortunately not. He became the number one magician in the world, and she thus asked that he keep his promise, and go to work for her boss. When he refused, she threatened to expose him for the fraud that he was. He agreed, but asked to perform one last trick, on the Dick Horn t.v. show. It was an incredibly difficult trick - he was to shoot a bullet through two panes of glass, and his beautiful assistant would catch the slug in her teeth. Providing that the crafty bastard didn't swap the special blank bullet for a live one, that is. Needless to say, he was planning to rid himself of the nuisance assistant. On the show, when he pulled the trigger, nothing happened. He foolishly looked down into the barrel to check the mechanics, and promptly blew his own head off. It materialised that he had done a deal with the dark lord himself. And he would unwittingly keep his promise, turning tricks in hell for all eternity. The magic then continues as Podge performs the classic pencil-in-the-eye trick. Rodge suffers as a result.

Um, I missed the first couple of minutes of this episode, so I'm not sure of the main character's first name, or what the two bastards were up to before Podge began this tale of double crossing. Anyway, Mr. Down - a man who had died in "mysterious circumstances" days beforehand, arrived in Rio de Janeiro for the execution of part two of his plan (part one being the staging of his own death) - he was to undergo a complete facial transformation (resisting the temptation to "add another five inches"), return home to Ireland, remarry his wife as a complete stranger, and then they would share the spoils (life insurance?) that his untimely "death" had brought. After the six months that it took for his face to heal, and for his modified larynx to right itself, he travelled home, called his wife, and told her to look for the tall, dark and handsome stranger in Enrico's. In the restaurant, he was surrounded by cops, and arrested by Lieutenant Luke Lad on charges of murder. His wife had hung him completely. Mrs. Down - with the aid of her lover Inspector Bush, had planted evidence at the scene of the supposed crime, evidence sufficient to have Mr. Down put away for the murder of er, himself. No amount of Rio-explanations would get him off the hook. Another bout of "are you making the tea?" followed, this time with a rather choice backing track.

In a rather bizarre role reversal, Rodge concludes some tale of terror by intoning that "his scrotum was the only thing found". Podge states that whilst he's not afraid of ghosts, he just doesn't like them. His brother stutters awkwardly something about emptying the pot, and reappears in the Ballydung night air, hovering and wailing with an unconvincing white sheet over his head. Podge arms himself with a shotgun and shoots the "ghost". The wounded boy makes his way back inside to a most apologetic brother, and announces that he himself hates vampires, and is well happy that Ireland is free of such a scourge. "I scorn your ignorance - Ireland was once infested by vampiros and all manners of the undead". And would still be if it were not for Glenn Dallock, vampire hunter extraordinaire. Glenn and his daughter - who acted as a capable assistant, sharpening stakes and the like, had no fear when it came to vampires. They would arrive at night in whatever town needed cleansing, and be done with their terrible work by dawn. Amongst the undead that they had dealt with were the Vampire Fireman of Brown Log's Pass, the Beastly Boyband from Titstown, the Old Folks With Fangs from Ballybollock, and the Killer Sheep of Gobbler's Knob. One evening, they arrived in Bedwettin for what should have been a routine slaughter. The vicar's son asked the Dallock daughter out on a date, and Glenn was only too happy to grant her the night off. After all, there was only so much blood and gore he could expect to expose her to. He set off on his own that night, and returned from a successful hunt to find his daughter cowering in the corner. With two puncture wounds in her neck. "The vampire vicar's son had stuck his fangs in". Rodge was not all that sympathetic. "So he killed his daughter, fecking tragedy, the end". Not quite. There was another option available to Glenn. If he killed the original vampire, the curse would be lifted from all those that had followed as a result. And there was no great hunt involved in tracking down the original vampire, for it was Glenn himself. He had enjoyed a terrible killing spree during his kingpin vampire days, but changed his ways when he married a mortal, and had a daughter. And so it was that Glenn enlisted the help of his daughter one more time - he asked her to help him kill himself. And ridded Ireland of its vampire curse. Confused, Rodge asked that if Ireland was free of the undead, "how come Enya is still making records?" Podge moves on to offer "another thing that puts the shits up me". Not a "burst colon", but werewolves. Which was the cue for Rodge to mumble something about hoovering the dog (what fucking dog?), and to reappear in crummy werewolf disguise outside. He then received another blast of lead.

Rodge is attempting to make his getaway for "a week of unbridled lust" when the agonic moans of pain from his coniving brother pull him back. "It's just me auld ticker. Doctor Flaccid said it could pack in". But he was "adamant" that Rodge still go and enjoy himself. And yet still the lure is there - "I'd love to watch you die". Talk of suitcases leads Podge to bravely offer the tale of Ireland's most notorious career criminal - The Banana. So called because of his slippery nature. However, he eventually slipped up, and a warrant was issued for his arrest. The Banana had to leave the country, or face a long-ass time in jail. But his details were already with Interpol (along with The Grape and The Mandarin), and the cops would be looking out for him at every airport and seaport in Ireland. He had a plan, and paid a visit to top plastic surgeon, Professor Sean Slither. The surgeon had been number one in the country until his booze problem had led to him being disbarred, forcing him and his practice underground. The Banana's plan, to Rodge's disappointment, did not involve "a ladyman operation, changing him into the woman he always wanted to be", but rather the removal of his limbs, which would then be packed in liquid nitrogen, carried through customs in separate suitcases, and reattached to his baggaged torso in Switzerland. For a fee of two hundred thousand Samoans, Professor Slither agreed. The process was a long and bloody one, but the Professor managed to successfully sever both The Banana's arms and legs, and packed him as arranged, the torso in the largest suitcase. How and ever, the Professor was stopped as he made his way through the airport, and asked to open his bags. He produced some bogus documentation, claiming that he was carrying a donated human heart for a serious operation, and was allowed to proceed. In the hotel in Switzerland, the tiniest of hitches made itself known - the bag which should have contained the frozen limbs was instead packed tightly with clothes. The Professor had taken the wrong bag from the luggage conveyor belt. With no time to lose, he called for the bell boy. Opting for the "fresh limb option", he overpowered the boy, removed his limbs, and attached them to The Banana. Leaving the bell boy to die in the bathroom. The reattachment was a success, and The Banana failed to notice the slight alteration in his height. Or indeed the new Bon Jon Bovi ladyhair tattoo that he had acquired. Podge continues to hold Rodge back, persisting until his brother agrees to stay, leaving the former to fleece downstairs to the waiting Sadie. Intending to pull off (perhaps in more ways than one…) a convincing impression of his brother during the week of sordid delights, he muttered away to himself - "talk shite…she'll never know the difference".

Rodge boasts that he believes he's "in with Driona from the mobile library". "Driona the Drawer", as his brother responds, "she's only after your money". Rodge is puzzled, seeing as he has fuck all money to speak of. Podge surmises that it's probably his inheritance that she's after. Inheritance… Rodge puts two and two together, and asks if their parents are dead. Matter-of-factedly, Podge tells him "yeah, fifteen years ago", and repeats the terrible tale of sleep slaughter. Rodge had been wondering "why the bastards never call around". Podge leads off into the story of Pat McShaft, who worked in his parents' tea shop. He was infatuated with one of the local medical college students, Clodagh Smelt, who frequented the tea shop with her jackass friends. ("Every ying has its yang"). But Clodagh was a manipulative bitch - pretty and smart. She was going out with Steve Frontal, who was equally as mean to young McShaft - "Jesus, Pat, every time we're shagging, she calls out your name", and he, his girlfriend and their shithead friends would "break their shite" laughing. But Pat was too much of a "poor lovesick gobsheen" to see any bad in Clodagh. One day, she burst into tears over her coffee whilst alone. Pat rushed to her side, and she sobbed that she and Steve had broken up. She apologised for all her cruelty, explaining that it was peer pressure from her friends that made her act like such a bitch. She confessed to having loved Pat instead all along, and asked that he meet her in the college gym that evening. He showed up - excited, and eagerly complied when she asked in the darkness that he get naked. And then the lights went on, and Clodagh, Steve and their bastard friends "broke their shite" laughing once more. Mortified, Pat ran. The next day, the medical students were due to sit their final anatomy exam - the culmination of eight years of work. The shroud was pulled back from the first cadaver, and revealed the cold dead body of Pat McShaft. He had killed himself in shame. Unlike the others around her, the heartless Clodagh Smelt was not moved. She refused to have her career jeopardised by that nobody. She moved to the second body, removed the cover, and found the hideously mutilated body of boyfriend Steve. Young McShaft had taken her bastard boyfriend with him. The horrified girl slipped and cracked her head open on the slab behind her. The thoughts of the two bed dwellers turn to food - and tongue in particular. "The tin says 1932". "Pre-war, that's a good vintage".

This episode begins with Podge putting the finishing touches to a crime scene, with the murder-outline of his spiky-haired brother behind him on the bed. The two had switched clothes, and Rodge is eager for an explanation. It materialises that Stab Kennedy had caught Podge "with his pants down" with Mrs. Kennedy - "hosing someone else's lawn", so to speak. And the virtuous husband was on his way to slaughter the adulterer. By Podge's reckoning, Rodge owed him for the black pudding that he had so generously handed over that morning, and should rightfully take his brother's place. The whole crime scene malarkey was to "speed things up" for the police when they eventually showed up. Defeated, Rodge ponders his other options - "run away with a freak show". Such talk leads Podge by the nose to the tale of the Busby & McMahon Travelling Theatre Of The Grotesque. The show included such delights as the Man With The Enormous Arse, The Girl With The Hairy Arms, and the The Elephant Man. Not to mention the Two-Headed Boy; twins Wayne and Dwayne who had been joined down the middle since birth. Despite their physical attachment, they were two separate individuals - Wayne studied to be a pilot, while Dwayne studied to be a doctor. Each year, when the show visited the town of Cocknorris ("a town with no chipper is a town with no soul"), the twins were subjected to the three bastards - Maurice McGinty, Loppy Kiernan and Eddie Hole, who took the almighty piss out of the unfortunate boys. The twins were used to being seen as freaks in the eyes of the ignorant public, but this abuse was above and beyond all else. "Headbanger", "two arses are better then one" - this kind of shocking behaviour continued annually for eight years, each time that the show returned to Cocknorris. Until one year, when the three bastards made for the Two-Headed Boy's tent, they were greeted by Busby himself, who announced that unable to face their abuse for another year, the twins had hung each other. Unable to pass up the opportunity to mock the freaks one last time, the three bastards took up Busby's offer to see the body, entered the tent, and were jumped by the very-much-alive twins. The very next night, the show had a new attraction - The Three-Headed Boy, formerly the three bastards. Dwayne had used the skills he'd acquired in studying to become a doctor, and stitched the three fuckers together, removing the limbs and heart that he and his brother needed in order to be safely detached from each other. With that, Stab Kennedy shows up outside. Podge is most animated in pointing out that he is Rodge, and his brother is the one who must face the music. Seconds later, Stab Kennedy lies dead, smoking shotgun in Rodge's hand, a terrifying disturbed look on his face, and his brother's nervous congratulations ringing in his ears.

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