"Eh, Jibes, that Mon Calamari molding is just ghastly! Look how it clashes with the duct flashing and the ornamental flanges, will you?"

"Makes me eyes bleed."

"And the paneling, who did the paneling is what I want to know. It's garish."

"Same twat who done the conduit, most likely."

The two conversants were huddled over the entryway viewport of a hydraulic docking station on The Executor, Darth Vader's flagship. They were taking turns peering in, confirming each other's examinations. On the opposing side stood the interior of a rebel blockade runner, forcibly docked by the star destroyer's massive tractor beams.

"They couldn't even get the lighting right. It is without a doubt the worst decor I have ever seen. What do you say?"

"I say we shoot it up a bit."

"Shoot it?"

"Put it out o' its misery."

"Don't you think that's a bit extreme?"

"What, just a few dings in the ship. No harm."

"I suppose it's not possible to do any disfavors to that decor."

"Exactly."

"Ok, so the plan is... open the blast doors..."

"Check."

"Run inside..."

"Check."

"And shoot the walls."

"Check."

"Well, are we we ready?

"Ready."

"Right, then, CHAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!"

--My theory on why, in the opening battle scene of Star Wars a New Hope, the Imperial Stormtroopers utterly missed the rebels standing 20 feet in front of them.