Sometimes in self-activity there was a certain room in which they used cartridges and foam bricks, throwing real ones to each other, rushing to the stage, then to the hall flew butaphore - screams, whispers, scare, choking.
So, my friend, let’s say, with a far from good-hearted face, then carried this brick with him and everyone around became kind and polite, the cars slowed down for a quarter and the police greeted.