Please bear with me. My Cyrillium is rusty. Or is that language called Cyrillanegran? I can’t remember. I was really loaded back in school most of the time. Being loaded was worth extra credit in that language class, though, because a proper Russkie was teaching it. Not like shop class. That guy was completely unreasonable about holding a mixed drink in your left hand while you used the drill press with your right. I think he was just jealous that I still had a left hand. Anyway, I’ll take a stab at translating the audio for you:

First, get an assortment of things completely unsuited to the task. Wear eye protection to avoid splashing vodak in your eyes when you’re refilling on the fly. Pitch a baby out of a carriage and take the wheels. Steal a moderately radioactive angle grinder from an abandoned nuclear weapons assembly shed. Pull a board off your hut. Ask the next riot policeman who’s arresting you if you can have some of his zip ties. Hang a dart board at navel height for no reason, and make sure it gets into the shot. Get some or that heavy plastic leader wire left over from your illegal gar fishing expedition. Mmm, caviar made with poached eggs, salt, and shoe polish. Strap the grinder to the board pretty good. Check a defenseman into the boards and steal his hockey stick. Cut the blade off and screw it to “the apparatus.” Go outside and survey your half-hectare of collective farm. Put on yellow glasses if you’re within 400 kilometers of Chernobyl. Put on heavy boots because it isn’t the woods, but the bears, man, the bears are everywhere around here, and you don’t want to step in that in your flip flops. Plug an extension cord into your neighbor’s outside outlet.

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