My humble prediction comes into fruition with the aid of my 2 Harpies.

- Don't type me in anyway. - Hello. Come on. Oh. I feel a fucking massive, massive prediction coming up due to these two girls. Is that right, girls? - Yes. - Yes. - What am I, girls? - A cause. - Let's do say it out of stable. We're on the right lines. I'm gonna make a humble prediction. - Unborn. - Oh, yes. Oh, after Christmas. - No, don't do that, you can't. - After Christmas, this is gonna be it. A new year shortly after. I'm all right, girls. - Yes. - What's up, am I? - A cause. - The idea might as well, but we'll be like that again. Right, oh, I, oh. More predictions. - Oh, oh, oh. - Does this thing come along? - Cold, summer, and people I wanna, gonna wanna go away. What am I, girls? - A cause. - Fucking two say it out. (laughing) Right, fuck that, you're gonna wake me some of all of this. Now, fuck off you, cunts. - Cunts. - Don't need for that, cunts are fired. Cunts, what should I say? - Cunts.