FlyingPig, wearing his robe and slippers and smoking an elegant pipe, takes a seat in his comfy lounger chair next to the warm fireplace.  The scent of cherry tobacco fills the air to give a relaxing vibe to the room.  With the radio equipment all set to go, FP is ready to broadcast his (possibly) weekly fireside chat...

"Hello morons.  Several times recently I have made promises to stop insulting people and to present myself in a warmer, friendlier manner.  So here you have me in fucking slippers and a robe. I hope you're happy.  That's right, I said "you're", not "your".  Do you know why? Because "YOUR" means something belongs to you.  It does not mean the same thing as "you are".  I hope we can all agree on that before I move on."

"Everyone good with that? Good. So anyhow, the reason I am speaking to you today is because I realized that we all have something in common.  We all love the sound of my voice.  Never one to deny my fans of their innermost needs, I have purchased some air time on the local radio station.  Going along with my promise to be nicer, I thought this would be better than standing on top of a stairs speaking down to all the cretins for another episode of As The Pig Sees It.  Think of this as a kinder, gentler Pig."

"So...let's see...what should we talk about?  Not much has been going on since the big war.  A few of you have told some dreadfully boring stories on the street that have made me want to eat my own head.  Of course, Gwarble put out another issue of that mediocre rag Gwarble Barble.  Other than that, it's just been a bunch of retards clicking and jailbreaking.  Perhaps some day Congress will implement forced sterilization.  Until then, all I can do is shoot you twats when the opportunity arises and continue pointing out how superior I am to everybody else.  Where were we? Ah yes...what to talk about?  Well, I guess I'll start off talking about the war, then."

"It's what has been on everyone's mind, isn't it?  At least, it's been on the minds of a bunch of whiny ass thugs.  To be fair, though, an awful lot of criticism has been leveled at the dead people this go around.  There are several consequences to war, especially if you lose.  Obviously, you have the dead family to think about.  Then there is all that lost money, both in terms of liquid assets and investments, such as bodyguards and DFPs.  There is also a lot of hard work that goes down the drain.  Perhaps the worst consequence of war is what we have seen here recently - merciless humiliation of the losing cities.  God, I love it.  There's nothing better than kicking a man when he's down.  Or, in this case, kicking a corpse.  It gives you something to think about the next time you plunge head first into a losing battle, doesn't it?  We can live with the lost assets and murdered family members, but really, who wants to be a chump for weeks on end until someone new takes your place?"

"Honestly, though, this time it was well deserved.  I mean, come on.  Demote your entire family to Thug?  What the fuck were you thinking?  Yeah, that might keep them alive a little longer, but it also renders them completely useless.  Oh, how I lol'ed and lol'ed when a former Consigliere tried to take me down from the humble rank of Gangster.  I made sure he knew about it, too.  I reminded him that, had he been his former rank, I might have been a dead man.  You could almost see the veins popping out of his forehead.  He knew I was right, and not just because I am always right, but because of the sheer absurdity of this strategy.  It is reminiscent of the great war general Job and his "send in the gangsters to 1%" war strategy.  Can you imagine Scipita and Job running a war together?"

The frame gets all fuzzy as we fade out to an imaginary scenario. Yes, this radio show has frames and fuzziness. Fuck you.

Job:  "Dammit, man, we are getting our butts kicked? What should we do?"

Scipita: "I GOT IT! We will demote everyone to Thug, that way we will live 4ev0r! Or at least until they wake up and rank to Gangster..."

Job: "Don't worry dear, I've got that covered. As soon as they rank to Gangster, we will send them in to kill the Don crewleader.  It is foolproof!"

Job & Scipita:  "Bwah hah hah hah!!!"

The radio show frames stop being all fuzzy and FP speaks again...

"Fucking hilarious, eh? That's right, it's been over a week and you are still getting shit for this.  Just another consequence of war..."

"This last week has also seen an epidemic of Thugs, Civilians, and Gangsters getting a little too big for their britches.  Or, as Gwarble would say, pulling the old Billy Big Balls routine.  But Gwarble is now just a mere Gangster himself, so who gives a fuck what he thinks.  A word of advice, Gwarble, all those bodyguards are not going to save you from a fucking lightning bolt in your ass.  Anyhow, yeah, can you believe one of those inbred drooling mongoloids actually said I was a sociopath?  I swear, if I find out who taught him that word, there is going to be trouble."

"I honestly don't know where these people get off coming out here and insulting everyone around them.  Now wait just a second!  Before anyone accuses me of doing the same thing, there is a huge difference.  When they do it, it is because someone just pissed on their parade and they have steam rolling out their ears.  When I do it, I do it out of love.  That's right.  I care so much about all of you, that I believe it is my civic duty to come out here and point out your mental deficiencies.  One day, it might sink in, and then you will actually get some education and learn to read and write.  And who will you have to thank for it?  That's right! ME!  And don't you fucking forget it."

"Books are not something to be feared.  Education is a good thing.  Turn off your fucking radio and go do something to improve your mind.  You mindless fucking zombies.  Christ, I hate all of you.  Your mother is a whore....

The radio goes dead as if a plug had been pulled. In a few moments, an announcer comes on the station...

"This concludes FP's Fireside Chat...probably indefinitely.  We here at WMOB are not responsible for the content of this program.  The views expressed are simply those of Flying Pig and not of the station or any of its employees.  We now return you to regularly scheduled programming."

After hearing the public FlyingPig announcement I bust out laughing so hard it turns to tears.I quicky realise that I am in love.Not love that can be found in a socially unacceptable way but the sort of love that screams...Daddy does'nt give you want you want he gently bends you over his knee and "WHIPS THE EVER LOVING SHIT OUT OF YOU." And Quickly tells you how much your Mother is a good for nothing Whore...

Yep I Love Flying Pig.

Whips? Whips? I can do that for the right price...

Not nearly enough insults for my liking, but the Job and Scipita part was a nice touch. I hear An Idiots Guide to Warring is soon to hit the shelves, no second guessses as to who has wrote that little beaut.

You make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

It also burns when I pee, but that may not be down to you.

"Whips? Whips? I can do that for the right price..."

You're always on about the right price sweetness, perhaps you're more of a lawyer - they're generally known for fucking people before they've taken their clothes off!

Your a big softy at heart, Pig, but as usual, you're speeches are enjoyable.

I have really enjoyed your speech Mr. Pig, and I loved the fake scenario part.

Tyrion said nothing. Standing next to his radio, transfixed and chuckling. As the broadcast was cut shot he realised FP would not be back and knocked the radio off the table. Cursing the PC brigade at WMOB for the needless censorship of a much needed voice.

You imbecilic twats! That's one of the few things in my week that doesn't make me want to pull out my own teeth!

Annoyed he sits down and pens a quick note thanking Flying Pig for the continued entertainment and suggesting someone has 'a word' with the directors at the station about the importance of free speech.

Gaius tuned in his radio, laughing to himself enjoying a nice drink and a smoke after a long day of drug running listening to a legend speak

At the end of the broadcast he sat through countless commercials cursing the radio station finally getting livid enough to get into his car and head down there to see just what the fuck the situation was.

Arriving at the radio station, Gaius slammed open the double doors and glared around the station, they were airing some bullshit recipe hour and Gaius was pissed, for once in his life he got enjoyment out of something and no producer was going to stop him from hearing it.

Which one of you fucking retards, turned off Pig? WHO DONE IT!

Gaius reached in his pocket and pulled his pistol ready to shoot the idiot responsible on the spot.

I SAID WHO DONE IT!

The station staff froze in place and looked at Gaius like he was a mad man... calming down, he walked out and swore to visit each and every one of those idiots privately to discuss their shoe size and the overly large shipment of cement he received the week prior

As Gaius arrived home he picked up the phone and called Pig, thanking him for that wonderful bit of entertainment. Asking for his next show time, and if it would be possible to get an autograph