A GROTTY PSYCHIC FAIR MARTIN IS SITTING BEHIND A CARD TABLE WITH A SIGN SAYING "I bet you 50p I can prove I'm a psychic."
BERT IS TESTING HIM WITH SOME PICTURE CARDS.
MARTIN
Erm it's a triangle but sort of round so it could be a circle.
BERT
You cheating faker. Now it's a circle or a triangle.
MARTIN
Let me think. Let me stare into your eyes.
BERT
Oi stop that! You're trying to see the reflection in my glasses.
MARTIN
No I'm not. The eyes are the windows of the soul.
BERT
Windows of my soul my ruddy arse. You're a bloody cheat. Let me tell your future Mr "so called magical" Martin.
MARTIN
Oh are you psychic as well?
BERT
No. It's a bloody con, but I predict you're about to lose a quid.
BERT SNATCHES A QUID OFF THE TABLE.
BERT
Come on Beryl we're leaving.
MARTIN NARROWS HIS EYES, BERT'S HEAD EXPLODES.
WE SEE BERYL HAS BEEN FELLATING MARTIN'S COCK FOR SOME TIME WITH A BLANK HYPNOTISED EXPRESSION
THE TABLE IS SURROUNDED BY CORPSES WITH EXPLODED HEADS.
MARTIN (TO HIMSELF)
Triangle, circle, bacon rashers you ninny.