I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me
Situational irony. I found it amusing at the beginning(such as the primitive way of recruiting accomplices and Guinness’s help-himself-style “making up”) but not so tempting when chases began. Incorporating screwball comedy elements as it might try, looks like creativity running out of control.