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Ring ring...Ring ri...
"Hello, Willis residence, alpha male speaking."
"Bruce?! Hi, my name is John! I won a cereal packet competition to direct the new Die Hard movie!"
"The film's set in Moscow and has an incomprehensible plot with barely believable twists! You wanna star?! You get to perform assault and battery and grand theft auto on disgusting johnny foreigners, all within the first few minutes!"
"Sure. Now I'm old I've lost whatever critical faculties I had."
"Done! You can do your lines over the phone now! We'll just CGI you in later!"
"Yippee ki-yay, Mother Russia."
Right chaps, one hour to write a film. Go.
An hour? What could we do it about? An hour.
Yep, one hour. One h…Oh, 59 minutes, 20 seconds. 19. 18…
Oooh, it's about time!
Brilliant! Quick, time sayings: not enough hours in the day.
Don't waste my time!
Wait, is that about what we're doing now…?
For a few to be immortal, many must die!
No one has to die before their time!
Oooh, just smoosh those together!
We need a star who's name works in…in…in…Justin! Just. In. Time. Get it?
No. Wait. Yes!
Man, this stuff writes itself...
Four likely lads get in over their loafs to the local kingpin babbling brook when they spy easy wonga to be made from a bit of a naomi on the ol' bladders. And would you adam and eve it, the john is fixed, the ken loaded, so now they're in loads of barney as they've only got a bubble to produce the sausage or face an unscheduled meeting and end up brown. It's a tufnell right from the scapa!