Mowl
Member
Wrong on all counts, Mister Swordizip. I consider what I do as being a public service, a lone voice on the Irish intersnots who'll refuse at any stage to quit lampooning the mongs and minions who look to yaps like you for political/spiritual advice. You're a fucking freak: a late-stage useless Irish aul fella reminiscing on your youth and previous vitality, both of which have by now utterly failed you. I don't even need to lampoon you any more - I simply tell people that they're idiots to believe you're a girl. But they still trust in you, or so it appears, and so you keep toying with them.
If you really wanted to do some good for Ireland and her people, then a precipitous death by rope or gun would suffice.
But remember: I'll keep on doing what I do for one simple reason - it amuses me.
Greatly, in fact. The daily grind you and your suckers endure is abysmally puerile. Doesn't it ever bore you reading Clarke/Connolly or Saul trying to act all hard and ready for the fight? You have an Aul Fella too, as well as a roundy and deluded little man over in Boston who makes statements like:
'Two of our men have been taken, send in the
It's pitiful to see how low you're willing to go to try to get one over on any of your perceived foes, and we all know perfectly well that without your mod hammer you're nothing but a spineless rat tied into a wheelchair and kept up on the top floor - for everyone's safety. So hang in there. It won't be long before I have your name, address, work and social welfare history, sexual history (that won't take too long) and current viral diseases. You seem to think that you're above reproach, but let me tell you: you've made lots and lots of enemies over the years, and while most of them are now either in hospital, retirement homes, prison, or elsewhere, a number of them are still around and they hate you even more than I do (I don't actually hate you, I find you amusing - though likely not in the manner you might hope) who are chipping away at the coalface gathering intel on you. For me. And you know what that means, right?
You think Roundy had it tough?
He was just a warm-up act, a support show for the main gig.
You think I'm bitter? Haha! Now, there's a funny joke even Val would get. See, I live in the heart of the capital of the world's happiest country. I relish my freedom up here, I'm very happy in my work, I have a beautiful and secured home, I'm surrounded by a quality of life normally reserved for Ireland's upper classes. I pay my taxes without a flinch, because I see exactly where it all goes: into making my already enhanced quality of life even better than it already is. I truly do pity Irish people these days. You sad bastards don't even seem to realize the goldfish bowl you live in, with me outside laughing in at you.
For all your yap over the years, for all the names and all the lies about being a female - what have you actually achieved?
Can you tell me even one viable thing that's come of all the hours and days and weeks and months and years and decades you've put in?
For no money, eighteen to twenty hours a day? For losers like Declan or Tadhg? Add up the hours of a week of your online idiocy? Add up the weeks, then the months, then all of it. What have you got? A massive gaping hole where your blackened soul used to be. That's all you are really are, right? A loser who thinks a ban-hammer is a god-given tool of the just and righteous. It ain't, you old fool. It's stolen a huge chunk of your existence and dumped it into the trash. You'll never get those hours and days and weeks back. If anything, the more you lose the more you'll continue to use by slapping your hammer harder today than last week. And what good was it then - or right now? See? That's called losing. That's a clear sign of your own bitterness at not having a life, and worse again: hating me for having one that just keeps on getting better and better each passing day.
Take a look in the mirror, Swordid - those wrinkles aren't going away, not any more than the glint in your scuttery-eye will ever go away.
The thing is that I know you know I'm right, that I outsmarted you all. That I got out and did so in style. You all want to try it out for yourselves but you haven't a fucking clue where to begin. Let me fill you in: for the likes of you - there's no start point. There's only an ominous cloud of a slow but inevitable death to look forward to now. You're alone. You have no-one. I often wonder if it's because you're a alone that you offer yourself for twenty-one hours a day to a job that doesn't pay.
I'm still dancing, still laughing - miles above the bedlam and insanity you call life in Urrland.
So keep me in mind - I'm on your horizon and getting closer and closer every passing day.
Sticking you like I did Roundy will bring an even sweeter reward.
Seeya.
of any better quality?
retort through to his latest antic of pretending to be a little girl having her period, the craic never ends.