Is that a threat??

Tony from the estate office this morning:

'You have two choices. Either come and play squash with us that week, or on the Friday morning I'll get some buddies and there'll be a drive by egging. You don't want to turn up on camp smelling of egg now do you? And you know, I will do it. And then deny it afterwards. So, there it is: squashing or egging, it's your choice.'

Thing is, I still don't want to go, even though the idea of being pelted with eggs by a group of grown men from a passing car during our walk to work isn't too inviting. Maybe Gemma will go to play squash. I'm sure he'll be satisfied with that. Won't he?