BRIDGET: Hey Stamford, let's go to the club this evening. We haven't gone dancing in forever.
STAMFORD: I don't know, Bridget. I haven't been feeling so good since the flight. I'm kind of tired.
BRIDGET: Nonsense, you love to dance!
Later, at an undetermined location...
BRIDGET: ARE WE MASCOT? OR ARE WE DANCER?
STAMFORD: Your dancing is terrible!
STAMFORD: /proves to be a robot, powers off slowly and sadly
After years and years or corporate life, the Chelsea mascots' spirit has finally been crushed. There is no hope left in these bleak, gray, everydays. Bridget will be locked into an ever-decaying shimmy until her energy runs out. Stamford will shuffle lower and lower until he can shuffle no more. This is life, not just for mascots, but for everyone. Dancing is only an invitation for the cruel fist of mortality to plunge itself into your soul.
Now go buy a new home shirt or something. Chelsea and adidas thank you.