Troy was being watched with varying degrees of interest, disinterest and downright boredom by the pubs various patrons, as he dragged his fourth huge bucket of water through the door, (spilling much of it over the floor) and carefully placed it by the bar. No-one was quite sure where the buckets had actually come from.
"I think we are all ready" He said brightly.
"A bemused sea of faces stared back at him, puzzlement writ large on every countenance. Then a single shining light dawned.
"Troy", said Atlanta kindly "I think you maybe misunderstand what is meant by a 'flamewar'".