Trashed elbow

It is my sad duty to report that my flatmate, the esteemed Michael Goetz, is now entirely incapable of English communication as his vocabulary has shrunk to two words, the second of which is "you."

The reason for his toilet-mouthed bestial incoherence is that he has thus far not been able to beat Shadow of Rome, a neat-ass game on the Playstation 2, which follows a spookily similar storyline to that of the movie Gladiator.

Having watched my friend continually getting hacked to pieces in the games final battle (in which, by an incredible twist of fate, the noble gladiator s fighting the Macbeth-esque Emperor in the circus), I have concluded that his lack of success is down to the fact that he lacks the true spirit of a gladiator. You see, boys and girls, gladiators are a lot like ninjas on a genetic level; they don't curse and swear, they definitely do not hurl Playstation controllers. The closest they get to losing their temper is killing someone. It's the only way they can articulate their inner feelings; expletives are fatuous by comparison.

I told Mike this. I got a two-word response out of him, the second of which was "you."

Scene from Gladiator the unauthorised version...

COMMODUS: They tell me your son squealed like a girl when they nailed him to the cross, and your wife moaned like a whore when they ravished her: again, and again, and again...

MAXIMUS: FUCK YOU!

The Imperial guard set about Maximus, beat him down with their spear butts, and then kick the hell out of him. The spectators go wild.