"Right then. Shall we sweep some mines then?", said Harch.

"Shall we SWEEP SOME MINES?"

"EXTREME MINSWEEPING ACTION:-)?" A small trail of drool worked its way down his face. He liked shouting. (It burns calories)

(Muffled weeping from Stupid)

Harch sighed. He knew what had to be done.

"Free PORNO PORN PORNOGRAPHIC PORNOGRAPHY for only the best minesweepers! I mean, EXTREME MINESWEEPERS!", ejected Harch. Stupid smiled. He SMILED! He didn't know what por-nog-raff-ie was but he liked that sound in his waxy ear! He was so excited he ran out onto the minefield laughing like a big arsehole that was laughing like a big arsehole. His numerator revealed an "8", so he stood on all 8 mines surrounding him. He exploded. It was funny. You had to be there. Although it might have just been Hodgins who found it funny, and he found it funny to a disturbing extent. Then he realised that they had made camp on a cleared 10x10 square (filled with bodies) that was surrounded by other 10x10 squares. And they had no dramatic pause

NUMERATORE!11!

to posses the uncanny ability to sense mines and make numbers appear to show the position of the mines. They would surely perish! That pile of corpses would not feed them for long. They would surely perish! "Shitbiscuit patty-cake man houses on Mars lightly broiled over a pungent strain of melted-down candy cane villagers!", said Hodgins. He blinked. "I mean, shit! Sarge, we shall surely perish!" Harch countered that with "Ah, but what doesn't kill us will only make us stronger. And if you die, then it's more food for me!"

Meanwhile in IRELAND...

"Begorrah!"

"Jaysus!"