WE'RE GOING ON A BEAR HUNT.

We're going hunting for bears. La la la we're not scared. 3.15 am driving back from a party in New York in a black stretch limousine. Up ahead we see a pool of black liquid and a bundle on 42nd Street, in the middle of the deserted road. As we came close we heard a woman screaming and crying. A few passers-by had stopped to look. The black pool was a negro man's blood pouring like a tap from a hole in the side of his head. The driver slowed up as we drove past and I think I saw the sprawled body spasm as the blood pumped out of the bullet hole. We drove on in silence listening to the woman's scream dying away in the distance. We called the NYPD on the mobile in the back of the limo and drove back to the hotel in silence. We're going hunting for bears. La la la. We're not scared.