Dear Shell Oil bastards,

Nice try guys, but I regret to inform you that your hitman failed.

I’ll admit, the whole sneaking up behind the D-Man and blasting him with those loud-ass petrol tanker airhorns while he cycled to work WAS pretty scary.

So was the whole deliberate taking a big petrol truck+trailor swipe to run me off the road and onto the footpath.

The only mistake your employee –- a Mr 53NUK: PHONE 06 764 8025 TO REPORT MY DRIVING –- made though, was pulling into your Shell station 60 seconds later to unload.

Consider this a warning, you evil, profiteering, fuck-with-the-environment, piss-off-the-terrorists, cyclist-hating fuckers: Call off your bitches, or next time you won’t get the body back.

I’ll keep it and harvest the organs.

I’ll make a fancy truck driver suit from his ample skin and drive around like an idiot all day, pretending I’m an idiot Shell Oil truck driver.

I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.

Well, you get the picture.

Yours in insobriety,

D-surrendered his gun licence, but not his guns-Man.