It should perhaps be mentioned, by way of setting the scene, that a proposal had been made on alt.tv.red-dwarf that a Deputy Newsgroup Person of the Year was needed. It came to pass that both Raz and myself (Friday) were nominated (amongst others). Raz and I duly responded with similar posts, myself calling for pistols at dawn, and Raz for muskets...
"So, Raz," quoth Friday, "what's it to be?"
Raz eyed Friday's biochip-controlled assault rifle, and then his own sword.
"Hmm, hardly fair, is it? I'm a bit cold, anyhow. That's the problem with these hero-type outfits."
Friday surveyed Raz's furry loin cloth.
"See what ya mean. Anyway, Raz, I feel that I don't really qualify for the position of Deputy Newsgroup Person of the Year. After all, I've only been back a month or so. Much better a seasoned hand takes such an auspicious mantle. You get my vote."
There was a rustling in the undergrowth. With split-second reflexes (invaluable in Raz and Friday's lines of work) the GI and warrior swung round to face the noise. CMA emerged with a beaver-like rodent in each hand.
"What're the furballs for?" asked Friday.
"Well," said CMA, "Raz said 'Muskrats at dawn'."
"Muskets, CMA," groaned Raz, "muskets..."