"Well... well, fuck!" Fred glowered at the piece of newspaper in his hands, like it had offended him personally, before squishing it into a small ball and throwing a cross the room as punishment. He stared fuming after it, thoughts running three miles an hour, twisting together and circling one another like vultures did in the desert. After having portrayed a glaring marble statue (with smoke nearly rising out of its ears) for a good couple of minutes, clenching and unclenching his firsts Fred turned to his brother with furrowed brows and cleared his throat impatiently. "Ya know what I'm thinking, mate? I'm thinking this is bloody it, we've been fecking around like two bleeding owls sitting on a bleeding perch for bloody too long, yeah? We've got to fucking do something, instead of staring at our pricks all day long. Already got the Ministry to do that for us."