* shit whistle
* sushi dick
* fungle rimjob
* prancing geisha
...all the while referring to him as Butterdick Jones, and/or Waggleton P. Tallywhacker, instead of his expectantly gruff, militant surname. These are only a scant few of a whole host of other savory quips that would turn even the face of a sailor's tattoo artist, a vivid hue of rose.
The script is so completely ridiculous, there's a point in the game where another character emphatically warns the protagonist they would "kill his dick" for a certain insubordination. Immediately thereupon the main character nearly broke the third curtain by openly pondering what this could even mean, or how one goes about "killing one's dick," and whether or not this is a metaphorical killing, or something far more sinister and twisted.
It's rare that a video game so openly embraces the archetypes of senseless, cartoonish violence and appallingly infantile and crass writing that their detractors are so fond of calling out, and doing it well. While they are indeed great, it's not the gorgeous visuals, smooth mechanics or the highly-polished execution of Bulletstorm that make it a great game, but rather it's the caricature of those expectations that the game so handily plays itself into, which is what makes it brilliant. Definitely worth a playthrough or three, if only to get a satirical taste for what the world perceives to be the past-times of its youth.