“Take your toe out of my nose,” Johnny said.

It had come to this. Picklebum the Hindu warrior had cornered Johnny out in the middle of nowhere with a clan of thugs at the ready and had used his patented manoeuvre, the toe-up-the-nose trick.

“Why should I?” Picklebum said back.

“Because I am the Bard of Bauchery, and you thugs are as fucked as lawn clippings.”

Picklebum and his clan of stone-munching devotees tittered. “Bards do not fight, even with toes up nose.”

Johnny kicked off into a fourth dimensional back flip, ripping Picklebum’s toe off using the suction power of his nasal passage.

“Ha, ha hah!” Johnny said from atop the rocky outcrop his back flip had taken him to. “That’s only the mildest retribution you can expect for insulting the Bard.”

Picklebum shoved his foot in his mouth and sucked at the blood streaming from his missing toe. “Get him, boys,” he said through bloodied teeth.

The clan drew wicked curved swords and started the “Mola-Ram, Mola-Ram” chant from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Johnny cast Summon Amp and a Vox AC-30 appeared next to him. He drew his own weapon, the electric banjo strapped to his back. He plugged it into the Voxy. Luckily, due to his spell casting ability, the amp arrived with tubes nicely warmed and a limitless internal power source.

Johnny opened with Duelling Banjos. The clansmen covered their ears with their hands, but it was too late. They melted into the ground.

Picklebum, made of sterner stuff than his brain-starved shitkickers, merely screamed.

He hopped away, turning just before he disappeared from view to shout, “You haven’t seen the last of me, Bard of Bauchery”.

Johnny smiled and went into the Imperial March. Picklebum fled.