Arsefield's Hall of Shame
- Thread starter Electricity
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Dan claims his spoiled brat son bought a $58,500 car upfront, with cash.
www.sarsfieldsvirtualpub.com
My Trip across the USA.
that's a lovely scene --its something my son did last year and he was changed by what he saw --he drove from Milwaukee to LA and then across the desert to Nashville and then to New York . I have it on my list and my wife will retire next Sept and we hope to rent a suitable vehicle -- please...
www.sarsfieldsvirtualpub.com
My Trip across the USA.
that's a lovely scene --its something my son did last year and he was changed by what he saw --he drove from Milwaukee to LA and then across the desert to Nashville and then to New York . I have it on my list and my wife will retire next Sept and we hope to rent a suitable vehicle -- please...
www.sarsfieldsvirtualpub.com
How many would be needed to do a 100% job on Dan?
Mowl
Member
Dan claims his spoiled brat son bought a $58,500 car upfront, with cash.
My Trip across the USA.
that's a lovely scene --its something my son did last year and he was changed by what he saw --he drove from Milwaukee to LA and then across the desert to Nashville and then to New York . I have it on my list and my wife will retire next Sept and we hope to rent a suitable vehicle -- please...
The little cunt robbed it, more like.
Mowl
Member
They're banging on about cloud seeding in the States and Canada now.
These mongrels can't see the wood for the trees. All those air streams you see high-flying jets leave in their wake is nothing more than the pee-pee of so many passengers, and the jets leak streams of it in their wakes like dogs pissing on all four corners of their territory. It's marks their space, you see.
'I don't fly in your wake so you don't piss on my wings' type schtick.
These mongrels can't see the wood for the trees. All those air streams you see high-flying jets leave in their wake is nothing more than the pee-pee of so many passengers, and the jets leak streams of it in their wakes like dogs pissing on all four corners of their territory. It's marks their space, you see.
'I don't fly in your wake so you don't piss on my wings' type schtick.
Mowl
Member
All the gang on Arsefield's are bulling about how shit this summer was in Ireland. Like it's news? Every summer is uniformly fucking HORRIBLE in Ireland, on that you can lay good money. Meanwhile up here in Happy Land, we're still basking in plus twenty-five and clear blue skies, and more of it to come for the next week at the least. It's been really awesome this year, the weekends in particular have been blessed with amazing weather, so we all hit the beaches and sail out to the islands here in the south, while some head way up north into the wilds to have their fun there.
I love Finnish seasons - they're so abrupt and they turn within a few days from one to the next. The sun will continue to shine until the first snows arrive, and it'll be as magical as it ever is. If you're not a fan of deep winters, stay away - you won't like it up here.
We definitely don't need scabs the likes of Arsefield's hosts coming up and destroying the good reputations of the few Irish there are in Finland.
There are more Finns in Ireland than vice-versa: bet you didn't clock that one?
I love Finnish seasons - they're so abrupt and they turn within a few days from one to the next. The sun will continue to shine until the first snows arrive, and it'll be as magical as it ever is. If you're not a fan of deep winters, stay away - you won't like it up here.
We definitely don't need scabs the likes of Arsefield's hosts coming up and destroying the good reputations of the few Irish there are in Finland.
There are more Finns in Ireland than vice-versa: bet you didn't clock that one?
Mowl
Member
Dear sweet fucking Jaze, but you're one sad and angry old man, Wooftie.
Is it bollock trouble that has you so demented and angry with life and the world?
Is it tiny, pale, flaccid, wrinkly, and covered in grey hairs?
Your wife, I mean?
Something's definitely wrong when you're quoting and arguing with yourself, Woofts.
Mowl
Member
Poor auld Wooftie: spends his days tearing around the place gathering tweets to throw at Kangal who throws them back but Wooftie can't seem to hack it. His general response to anyone posting anything is: 'pedo, pedo, pedo pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo!!!'
And when I post anything he's all: 'pedo, pedo, pedo pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo!!!'
Which leads one to a very obvious conclusion, no?
And when I post anything he's all: 'pedo, pedo, pedo pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo, pedo!!!'
Which leads one to a very obvious conclusion, no?
roc_abilly
Member
They're all projecting sexual deviants I suspect.
Sure listen to their guru and leader who
gets sexually excited over money and economic armageddon.
E.g.
Sure listen to their guru and leader who
gets sexually excited over money and economic armageddon.
E.g.
Mowl
Member
Poor Marianne, auld Roundy's long-suffering Missus and owner of the house he lives in.
Roundy's life truly is the fruit of lost ambition and the will to be cared for while bedridden, his kids counting the days waiting until he finally squawks his last and they can get on with their own lives. I bet Roundy has his fingers deep into all of his kid's lives, and they likely fucking hate him for it too.
I used to feel sorry for him, but now I feel even sorrier for his sprogs: they've had him in the ear all day every day of their lives.
A fate worse than death.
Mowl
Member
So Myles has finally exited the closet: that was a long time coming, mind.
The filthy little faggot: he plays with dolls and prams, then - when nailed by his classmates - he turns to a male doll, and a pram.
These culchies are some embarrassment to Ireland - they all dress up as women at some point - then make videos of it, then spread them around and pretend to have been hacked, when in fact they fucking LOVE IT. Anything for attention. Even the most mortifying shame.
The filthy little faggot: he plays with dolls and prams, then - when nailed by his classmates - he turns to a male doll, and a pram.
These culchies are some embarrassment to Ireland - they all dress up as women at some point - then make videos of it, then spread them around and pretend to have been hacked, when in fact they fucking LOVE IT. Anything for attention. Even the most mortifying shame.
Mowl
Member
So, Mr Swordid - you do realize that while it's bad enough that Wooftie here is destroying Roundy's forum, putting his investment at risk, putting Declan himself at risk, Woooftie's now taken to giving you the middle finger too as regards his obsession with all things pedophile? Have you any balls at all, Golan? You know exactly what you would do if the site were Pish, or even P.ie - whose demise we all thought imminent.
But no, there you are: another mod job, another year gone by in the blink of an eye - and you've spent it watching Wooftie make a hames of the site you're supposed to be managing on the owner's behalf. You surprise me: you have a mod hammer in hand, yet you simply let it dangle like your old grey balls, an embarrassment to Arsefield's, to Pish, to P.ie, and most of all - to yourself. You know what you need to do to lift Arsefield's out of the mire Wooftie's dragged you all down into to share in his misery and rage all day and night.
Redeem yourself, step up - drop the stupid little prick and watch the site grow rather than wither, which is what it's doing right now - under your watch.
See, this is the level he wants the site kept at:
99% of his content is laughing emojis. Winks. Sunglasses to make him appear 'cool'. And you engage with him at that level? REALLY? When exactly did you sell out your moral bottom line to his even lower level dank-rankness? You're a failure to everyone just now, your mod badge looks as ridiculous as a pair of clown shoes would on you, if you could stand, walk, or even wheel yourself along the gangplank and out into an ocean of obscurity and nothingness.
Or you could man up and put your foot down. If you can lift it in the first place, you stumbling fucking hypocrite cowardly lying spoof-bag in a golden bra. Get off your fucking hoop and sort your rats and sewers out before everyone dies of fucking boredom listening to your Poster Of The Month, every month since Arsefield's opened it's doors - and legs, going by the clear evidence.
Or ignore me, like you usually (pretend to) do. But you know I'm right, you know something needs to be done to shut that pathetic little loser up from dragging everyone down to his level. Even Saul Bucket has more to offer the site than The Poster Of The Month and Every Month Ahead. Grease up that elbow, take your banhammer in hand and beat that fucking loser off the site for once and for all. If you don't, then chances are you'll have to moderate yourself, Saul, Myles and his little girl's pram, and then allow some room for the two or three even moderately interesting posters on the site.
Roundy will thank you for it - he obviously fucking hates Wooftie more than you do, so you'll be doing him a favour as well as the rest of the Irish blogging community. People may be reluctant to join sites I post on - but that's mostly fear. If you step to me, you know I'll have answers of my own you hadn't even considered yet. You know ROC and I are going to win out eventually, and you even admitted that much publicly. So act on your principles: remind Wooftie of the rules, show him how they're meted out, let him know his actual value to the site.
He may have the most posts, but again: 99% of them are emojis and references to pedophilia - his pet indulgence.
It's Friday, there's fuck all else to do, so why not start up a ruckus to begin the fun?
Or you could just sit there with your old grey balls in hand, afraid to act even though you know you should.
I'm watching you, all the time - you stupid fucking loser.
Show us what you're made of, you slimy fucking snake-rat sewer-dwelling old fart, go out with a bang, not a whimper, you moronic old twat. You're down to posting one-liner OPs about nuclear devices, for fuck's sake - and he's even fucking that up for you as well. Get off your hole, you yellow-bellied Nordie cunt.
But no, there you are: another mod job, another year gone by in the blink of an eye - and you've spent it watching Wooftie make a hames of the site you're supposed to be managing on the owner's behalf. You surprise me: you have a mod hammer in hand, yet you simply let it dangle like your old grey balls, an embarrassment to Arsefield's, to Pish, to P.ie, and most of all - to yourself. You know what you need to do to lift Arsefield's out of the mire Wooftie's dragged you all down into to share in his misery and rage all day and night.
Redeem yourself, step up - drop the stupid little prick and watch the site grow rather than wither, which is what it's doing right now - under your watch.
See, this is the level he wants the site kept at:
99% of his content is laughing emojis. Winks. Sunglasses to make him appear 'cool'. And you engage with him at that level? REALLY? When exactly did you sell out your moral bottom line to his even lower level dank-rankness? You're a failure to everyone just now, your mod badge looks as ridiculous as a pair of clown shoes would on you, if you could stand, walk, or even wheel yourself along the gangplank and out into an ocean of obscurity and nothingness.
Or you could man up and put your foot down. If you can lift it in the first place, you stumbling fucking hypocrite cowardly lying spoof-bag in a golden bra. Get off your fucking hoop and sort your rats and sewers out before everyone dies of fucking boredom listening to your Poster Of The Month, every month since Arsefield's opened it's doors - and legs, going by the clear evidence.
Or ignore me, like you usually (pretend to) do. But you know I'm right, you know something needs to be done to shut that pathetic little loser up from dragging everyone down to his level. Even Saul Bucket has more to offer the site than The Poster Of The Month and Every Month Ahead. Grease up that elbow, take your banhammer in hand and beat that fucking loser off the site for once and for all. If you don't, then chances are you'll have to moderate yourself, Saul, Myles and his little girl's pram, and then allow some room for the two or three even moderately interesting posters on the site.
Roundy will thank you for it - he obviously fucking hates Wooftie more than you do, so you'll be doing him a favour as well as the rest of the Irish blogging community. People may be reluctant to join sites I post on - but that's mostly fear. If you step to me, you know I'll have answers of my own you hadn't even considered yet. You know ROC and I are going to win out eventually, and you even admitted that much publicly. So act on your principles: remind Wooftie of the rules, show him how they're meted out, let him know his actual value to the site.
He may have the most posts, but again: 99% of them are emojis and references to pedophilia - his pet indulgence.
It's Friday, there's fuck all else to do, so why not start up a ruckus to begin the fun?
Or you could just sit there with your old grey balls in hand, afraid to act even though you know you should.
I'm watching you, all the time - you stupid fucking loser.
Show us what you're made of, you slimy fucking snake-rat sewer-dwelling old fart, go out with a bang, not a whimper, you moronic old twat. You're down to posting one-liner OPs about nuclear devices, for fuck's sake - and he's even fucking that up for you as well. Get off your hole, you yellow-bellied Nordie cunt.
These scumbags seem to have no grasp of just how serious defamation of character actually is. I consider Dan and Val fair game for slagging. But for me to spread false abuse allegations and rumours around Dedham or Kingscourt? I get taken to court and sued for every last penny.
That scumbags like Wolf see child abuse as a joke is even more despicable considering the many lives destroyed by it in recent decades.
That scumbags like Wolf see child abuse as a joke is even more despicable considering the many lives destroyed by it in recent decades.
Mowl
Member
Have done many slanders? What the fuck does that even mean, you illiterate little dip-shit?
Is your son in or out of jail at the moment, Saul Bucket? Did they send him down for battering and then robbing a granny living nearby your hovel? What a fucking hypocrite? You have no honour, decency, or civility, have you? You threaten death on people you dislike like you're flinging out confetti at a funeral. They've done a right fucking number on you, you sad little rat with your pied pipers to kiss the arses of. You fucking disgust me, you pathetic little bastard's melt.
The 'slanders' I threw at you would be far better themed as simple facts: you are a racist militant little shit, and you are a follower of idiots because you have nothing of your own but the will to follow where others tread deep in shit. There's nothing slanderous about calling you a racist, murderous pig. All fucking talk, mind you but still very much on the bandwagon of 'kill 'em all and be done with it' type idiocy.
I see Zippy Golan's afraid to post any reply to what I put to him last night: this is his standard ruse, when the going gets hot he quickly disappears off nto the netherworld of vague replies trying to appear innocuous, but still with that slavering drool running down his chin and into his neck beard. Still you have Wooftie winding you up and letting you totter about until you fall. You're some sad and useless cunt, aren't you? I know you were thrilled at the notion of P.ie closing, weren't you? Because you used to be a moderator over there until you were fucked out on your ear for doing exactly what you're doing on Arsefield's these days: triple-tier moderation. Those you 'like' and those that don't agree with you are given very different moderation. The work of the anonymous coward, all dressed up in women's clothes, trying to be all mysterious and theological, you prance about the stage like a bad actor on meta-amphetamine in a slow-moving play by Beckett. You're not even from the republic yet you have loser minions with their tongues so far up your tight fucking arse they're wiggling your tongue for you.
So you're afraid to do anything about Wooftie - too focused on the engineer and part time model/extra Rory O'Connor of 182 Blaley Cross, Sandyford Co Dublin and how he's undermining you like greased lightning. Making a complete fool of everything you do and say, and it's fucking hilarious to watch you peel your snake skin off your skeleton trying to squeeze your way out from being cornered like a filthy sewer rat.
Pull your fucking pants up and do what you're supposed to, you bald and steaming pile of wet shite.
Nobody said you were a mod on P.ie, you illiterate little cunt; go back to school and learn to read.
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Mowl
Member
Pahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!
'I see Zippy Golan's afraid to post any reply to what I put to him last night: this is his standard ruse, when the going gets hot he quickly disappears off nto the netherworld of vague replies trying to appear innocuous, but still with that slavering drool running down his chin and into his neck beard. Still you have Wooftie winding you up and letting you totter about until you fall. You're some sad and useless cunt, aren't you? I know you were thrilled at the notion of P.ie closing, weren't you? Because you used to be a moderator over there until you were fucked out on your ear for doing exactly what you're doing on Arsefield's these days: triple-tier moderation. Those you 'like' and those that don't agree with you are given very different moderation. The work of the anonymous coward, all dressed up in women's clothes, trying to be all mysterious and theological, you prance about the stage like a bad actor on meta-amphetamine in a slow-moving play by Beckett. You're not even from the republic yet you have loser minions with their tongues so far up your tight fucking arse they're wiggling your tongue for you...'
So that'll be another NO, won't it - you dumb fucker.
Learn to read, you stupid little cunt, and give that son of yours a battering - if you're able for him.
'I see Zippy Golan's afraid to post any reply to what I put to him last night: this is his standard ruse, when the going gets hot he quickly disappears off nto the netherworld of vague replies trying to appear innocuous, but still with that slavering drool running down his chin and into his neck beard. Still you have Wooftie winding you up and letting you totter about until you fall. You're some sad and useless cunt, aren't you? I know you were thrilled at the notion of P.ie closing, weren't you? Because you used to be a moderator over there until you were fucked out on your ear for doing exactly what you're doing on Arsefield's these days: triple-tier moderation. Those you 'like' and those that don't agree with you are given very different moderation. The work of the anonymous coward, all dressed up in women's clothes, trying to be all mysterious and theological, you prance about the stage like a bad actor on meta-amphetamine in a slow-moving play by Beckett. You're not even from the republic yet you have loser minions with their tongues so far up your tight fucking arse they're wiggling your tongue for you...'
So that'll be another NO, won't it - you dumb fucker.
Learn to read, you stupid little cunt, and give that son of yours a battering - if you're able for him.
Mowl
Member
Hah hah! This cunt? This is the first time he's mentioned in public that he has a daughter and he's rasiing her in Sweden instead of Ireland to give her a 'better start in life'? Are you fucking crazy, Bro? Sweden is currently the single most fucked up failure of a Scandinavian country - they're not Nordic people after all. The Swedes went nuts with their open-arms policy of inviting the dregs of the world into their once pristine and stunningly beautiful country. I've traveled across Sweden many times and am familiar with the lifestyles of those in the (so-called) badlands of middle Sweden.
Back in the day, these were the most closed-up and introverted people I ever walked among. Towns like Trollhattän, Lynkoping, Norrkoping, up into Uppsalla, the bigger cities of Gothenburg and Stockholm, and Malmö, of course: now a fucking war zone with Swedes having moved out of the new ghettos to anywhere they can find peace. It's only going to get harder, not easier - the Swedish legacy is one of stupidity and blind trust gone wrong. Malmö's never going to be Swedish again, it's too far gone to retrieve. They're letting it go because they haven't much fucking choice by now, the problems they imported are only growing and they're dropping babies like the clappers. It's a fucked up situation that's completely out of all control at this stage.
Islam runs the south of Sweden. It's costing the whole country a fortune in providing for the needs of these immigrants, and jaze only knows the taxes are fucking high. They have their own councilors and politicians running both locally and nationally. In time their influence will put the indigenous Swedes out to pasture. Stockholm is boiling too. When I first visited the capital on an InterRail ticket years ago, you didn't see any people of colour anywhere in the country. The place was manicured to perfection; tourist friendly (even if the natives weren't exactly socially adept) and ridiculously expensive. I stayed in the city with a (now ex) Swedish lady friend in the area of Slussen, just north on the city on the metro line. It was graduation time and we built a set of white wings for herself's brother to wear as we drove through the city on an open-decked truck to celebrate his graduation, his (wire and paper) wings flying high behind him. The streets full of people, everyone happy, everyone speaking Swedish and looking good.
But the expense was ridiculous for the Krona against the punt, so I only stayed a few days before heading south again to relatively more affordable countries to traverse. EsatDigiWank's fucking crazy to leave his daughter there alone. Asking for trouble, these days. I haven't been across the sea since 2016, and I don't particularly miss Stockholm either. Nice to visit, the old town, the museums, galleries, etc. But to live in? Fuck. No. Fucking fuck.
Once again, Finland tops the charts in convenient modern living and quality of life.
While those who took to Sweden are having to medicate themselves and stay permanently drunk on rather expensive alcoholic drinks at the systembolaget: Sweden's rather austere state-run strong alcohol outlet.
More like a pharmacy in a museum type atmosphere, systembolaget's windows used to be completely covered to keep them discreet. Standing in a queue outside used to be public shaming. The staff wore white coats, the products were all behind glass. You took a booking paper and wandered around the exhibits, each one had a numeric code you filled in on the paper. Then you handed that to a staff member at the counter and they'd flick a few switches and out came you order on a small conveyor belt: already bagged and the receipt stapled to the handle. You were encouraged to keep the alcohol hidden in the bag, carrying and drinking would get you some attention from the coppers, so everyone followed the rules. Used to make me laugh, but not anymore. These days, they're like any alcohol outlet, except they're state run and every one of them is more or less exactly the same. Surly, silent staff. No muzak. Bad lighting. Security eyeballing everyone. Little joy or fun about the place. As austere as an auld Swede who remembered better days for Swedish people.
They're fucked, though.
Thoroughly fucked.
Mowl
Member
Oh sweet fucking jeeeez, would you look at this roundy fucker?
Get a job? Declan Kelly? A job? Doing what? Driving the van around delivering boxes to suburban houses for $30 an hour? $30 an hour? I wouldn't answer the phone for fees that low, you dumb cunt. You're unemployable anyway, you fat little twat. You're in your mid-sixties, you're obese, you're a nasty fucking cunt too so nobody wants you around the place acting like Lord Muck, you facetious little gomb. Thirty bucks an hour? What the fuck kind of sad pocket money are you used to earning, you fake millionaire spoofing auld bollocks?
Nobody's going to hire you any more than they would any of your idiot minions. Like Saul there with his little hotel job as KP dealing with the slops and the food returns. Servants, slaves to others while kidding themselves they're in charge of their wasted lives. Unemployable in a world of shitty jobs and menial tasks for the old folks - and that's what you are as far as the jobs market's concerned. Useless, unskilled, with a fat yap and an even fatter gut. You're a health and safety hazard in your current condition and no amount of 'ten mile walks' is going to change that any time soon, you Roundy old cockroach.
Van drivers are ten a penny, and most are a few dozen decades younger and fitter than you are, Roundy.
Van drivers who never shut the fuck up are about as employable as mongrel mutts brought in to protect a fresh meat shop.
You're your own worst enemy, Deco - everyone fucking loathes you, with your bullshit tales of vast wealth and silver stocks aplenty. Now we all know what you're about: six months of the year you spend it dossing around in car parks and under bridges, jaze only knows what you get up in the back of your van. Probably selling blowjobs to other men while you're dressed up as an old hag like you are in this classic shot:
What a fucking spoofer? He claimed a few days ago that he was 'living the dream' by driving a van from Oregon or some other kip all the way across America to Dedham. In a van. Alone. Turns out he was collecting a van his son bought, and the son was too busy to travel himself, so Deco hopped in and made himself some pocket money off the kid. His 'I'm always so busy' schtick is clear at last: he has fuck all to do seven months of the year, which explains his addiction to sitting in vans in car parks and off-ramps. A thoroughly wasted life. Nothing achieved, everything spoofed, even his personality is a lie. In reality you are what I've always said you are: a carbuncle on the arse of the universe, the yellow stink of leaked wee-wee on the y-fronts of harsh reality.
A loser of such epic proportions not even a clever child could dream up spoofing about.
You're a bum, a waster, one of life's terminal losers.
You've achieved precisely nothing in your life - which is what I predicted when you tried spoofing me about your silver coins and heading down to the mint to get the presses rolling. You're a liar, a Walter Mitty in a world full of harsh reality. You leech off your your long-suffering wife, you even leech off the kids, and I'm sure they see right through you even if the wife doesn't.
You don't need a part-time job, you fat fuck - you need to top yourself, you Roundy bag of wet cat-poop in a zipper-necked jumper and Farah pants.
And a cross-dressing half-wit whose only equal is your best bud Val Martin.
Two gobshite culchies, two right smelly old farts, two men of a match made in hell.
You without an arse in your pants and him without teeth in his face.
Bums, the pair of ye.
Get a job? Declan Kelly? A job? Doing what? Driving the van around delivering boxes to suburban houses for $30 an hour? $30 an hour? I wouldn't answer the phone for fees that low, you dumb cunt. You're unemployable anyway, you fat little twat. You're in your mid-sixties, you're obese, you're a nasty fucking cunt too so nobody wants you around the place acting like Lord Muck, you facetious little gomb. Thirty bucks an hour? What the fuck kind of sad pocket money are you used to earning, you fake millionaire spoofing auld bollocks?
Nobody's going to hire you any more than they would any of your idiot minions. Like Saul there with his little hotel job as KP dealing with the slops and the food returns. Servants, slaves to others while kidding themselves they're in charge of their wasted lives. Unemployable in a world of shitty jobs and menial tasks for the old folks - and that's what you are as far as the jobs market's concerned. Useless, unskilled, with a fat yap and an even fatter gut. You're a health and safety hazard in your current condition and no amount of 'ten mile walks' is going to change that any time soon, you Roundy old cockroach.
Van drivers are ten a penny, and most are a few dozen decades younger and fitter than you are, Roundy.
Van drivers who never shut the fuck up are about as employable as mongrel mutts brought in to protect a fresh meat shop.
You're your own worst enemy, Deco - everyone fucking loathes you, with your bullshit tales of vast wealth and silver stocks aplenty. Now we all know what you're about: six months of the year you spend it dossing around in car parks and under bridges, jaze only knows what you get up in the back of your van. Probably selling blowjobs to other men while you're dressed up as an old hag like you are in this classic shot:
What a fucking spoofer? He claimed a few days ago that he was 'living the dream' by driving a van from Oregon or some other kip all the way across America to Dedham. In a van. Alone. Turns out he was collecting a van his son bought, and the son was too busy to travel himself, so Deco hopped in and made himself some pocket money off the kid. His 'I'm always so busy' schtick is clear at last: he has fuck all to do seven months of the year, which explains his addiction to sitting in vans in car parks and off-ramps. A thoroughly wasted life. Nothing achieved, everything spoofed, even his personality is a lie. In reality you are what I've always said you are: a carbuncle on the arse of the universe, the yellow stink of leaked wee-wee on the y-fronts of harsh reality.
A loser of such epic proportions not even a clever child could dream up spoofing about.
You're a bum, a waster, one of life's terminal losers.
You've achieved precisely nothing in your life - which is what I predicted when you tried spoofing me about your silver coins and heading down to the mint to get the presses rolling. You're a liar, a Walter Mitty in a world full of harsh reality. You leech off your your long-suffering wife, you even leech off the kids, and I'm sure they see right through you even if the wife doesn't.
You don't need a part-time job, you fat fuck - you need to top yourself, you Roundy bag of wet cat-poop in a zipper-necked jumper and Farah pants.
And a cross-dressing half-wit whose only equal is your best bud Val Martin.
Two gobshite culchies, two right smelly old farts, two men of a match made in hell.
You without an arse in your pants and him without teeth in his face.
Bums, the pair of ye.
Mowl
Member
I bet they whacked the fat cunt around the bonce with an empty tequila bottle, then threw him into the river in the hopes he might smell a little cleaner afterwards. If there's a wall to be built, a cheap option might be laying Roundy's ample carcass along the border line, give him al the cheeseburgers he can swallow, and voila: now you have your insurmountable wall to keep the taco-boys out and the fat useless Irish in.
What a fucking loser.