Scott and deepest darkest somewhere...

James:
The PS3 has a new camera peripheral coming out called The Eye, and a game for it called Eye of Judgement. Armed with that background, you may now enjoy the joke.

Scott:
I may? Why good sir you are far too kind and far too free with granting your permission. I say withhold permission until the scoundrels agree to go back to work for a penny an hour!

James:
I'm no stranger to sarcasm, sir.

Scott:
I have heard it said that the natives of Limpopoland use blowpipes and sarcasm darts to bring down monkeys when hunting. Sir Reginald said that he'd personally witnessed feats of sarcasm accuracy of the likes never before recorded on 3 separate occasions, but then the man is prone to exaggeration, particularly after a sherry or two.

James:
The sarcasm darts are amazingly fast-acting and powerful. Sir Reginald was attacked by a native when first attempting to make contact with the tribe, and was struck by a dart. One of his aides asked if he was okay, and the normally placid Sir Reginald replied, "Oh, sure, I'm fine - I just LOVE having poison darts stuck in my arse, didn't you know?"

Scott:
I was speaking to Charles at the Royal Society the other day and he said that the ill-fated expedition of Sir Wallace McScroggin (imagine! a Scotsman in the Royal Society!) of 1885 was attacked by natives no less than 9 times. Sir Wallace himself was suspected of being poisoned; when told that half his expedition had fled in terror back down the river Swee he replied "No way, really? Wow. And you know what else? The sky's blue and this forest is full of trees!"

James:
Other natives in neighbouring areas utilised different poisons in their blowdarts. When Sir Mallory de Ramsbottom was struck by an obsessive compulsive dart, his expedition was held up for several hours as he insisted on stopping every couple of minutes to check that the dart "really had been removed" and that there "definitely weren't any more". An expedition from the previous year broke down into petty squabbling after natives hailed them with passive aggressive blowdarts. Said Mr Harry Doughboy of the expedition's leader, "I have no complaints about his leadership. He does the best he can, and nobody's perfect. I think it's great how hard he works to overcome his many shortcomings."

Scott:
Sir Wallace presented what I consider to be a somewhat fanciful report at the last Society gathering of mysterious tribe hidden deep within Limpopoland that even the natives are scared of. According to their legends there is a tribe that uses a bureaucratic inertia dart. When struck apparently the victim becomes completely unable to make individual decisions, organises never-ending roundtables and focus groups, and starts producing paperwork at an alarming rate. While I consider this to be nothing more than some local witchdoctor's flight of fancy, it would explain the now legendary disappearance of Sir Philbert Arthwarton's expedition of 1867. According to the members of the expedition that was sent to find them no trace was found, except for a whiteboard bearing the words "How can we leverage our synergistic enterprise solutions in a competitive expeditionary environment?" and the scattered remains of a draft OH&S report on the dangers of conducting expeditions in a non-standard workplace environment.