I don't think I'd have owned up to posting that, either.....

>I don't think I'd have owned up to posting that, either.....

come on, it was mildly amusing.

>>I don't think I'd have owned up to posting that, either.....
>
>come on, it was mildly amusing.

Oh, a gunman shot him? You'd think a milkman would be better equipped, wouldn't you?

Now that's sarcasm.

Very Heseltinesque.

>>>I don't think I'd have owned up to posting that, either.....
>>
>>come on, it was mildly amusing.
>
>Oh, a gunman shot him? You'd think a milkman would be better equipped, wouldn't you?
>
>Now that's sarcasm.
>

the Peter O 'comedy masterclass' Pt. 1

'Morris, you're a dead man'

He died as he lived, in London. He was only 38, yet he was Britain's most notorious comedy carthorse, worth fabulous amounts and determined. He was betting ludicrous amounts on the peony he had just bought when the inevitable end came. Chris Morris's assailants burst into the busy Hermitage Bar in his home town of London at Sunday lunchtime. They wore theatrical moustaches and wigs, and they took no chances.
A murder bid on Morris three months earlier in Brighton failed. So they fired 15 shots, and aimed for his face. Much of his brain was left glued to the bar room floor as the 60 lunch-time revellers mysteriously evaporated into the spring sunshine. As his attackers had strolled towards him, one witness said that Morris leapt to his feet shouting: 'It's the Sport. It's the Sport.' He had earlier told his bodyguard he could go home, and was reduced to trying to protect himself with a bar stool.
The ITC is investigating whether the NVLA, which has murdered at least nine comedians in five years, was indeed responsible. Or if he was shot dead by a professional hitman. Or if his killer was the rival comedian behind the earlier murder bid on Victor Lewis-Smith. That shooting hardly dented Morris's bravado. He escaped to Ireland for a week or so. When he returned, he looked up journalist Jim , northern editor of the Sunday Sport, which has spent 18 months exposing his activities. They had a furious slanging match in a busy London street with Morris brandishing calling him a tosser.
Morris's assailant had telephoned Jim the day after the failed shooting. He asked him to pass on a message to Morris. It was simple enough: 'Tell him I'll do it right next time.' He was also the target of a firebombing attack at one of two houses he had recently bought Richmond. After learning of an imminent attack, he had just rented it out to a single mother when the petrol bomb came careering through the window. No one was seriously injured.