Thats crazy. What was being said behind the curtain?
Arsefield's Hall of Shame
- Thread starter Electricity
- Start date
Mowl
Member
Yeah, without an enemy to shout at, he's just a fucking bore. He parrots all the same shit I do about Ireland and her entire incompetence, but he just loves to intersperse all of that with his favourite daydream: kids getting buggered by priests. I mean, I think it's amazing someone can so suddenly turn on and off the child-rape factor and find it hilariously funny, no?
I get the impression he feels left out of all the rapey fun priests tend to enjoy.
Or maybe he just has great memories of baby lotion, wearing knickers, brushing out his wigs, and jerking off to photos of Tony Walsh.
Declan's a lazy bastard who wouldn't bother wiping his own arse after a dump only his wife holds him to task about his skiddies. But that's what happens to men that age: they not only can't ever trust a fart, they live in daily fear of shitting themselves because their hoop's been pummeled so many times you could insert a beer bottle without ever touching skin.
Not only does Declan delegate the daily chores, he only ever pipes up to say:
(1) I'm very busy all, I don't have time to post here.
(2) I'm booked up until February 2046 all.
(3) My new car is admired by all.
(4) I walked seventy-eight miles today all.
(5) I'm not fat, all - I'm just big-boned.
(6) My culchie accent is loved - by all.
If I said what I saw then I'd lose my advantage over Roundy, Fishpish, and Zippy the bushy-balled fake vagina.
They're not half as smart as they think they are, and the mere fact that they can't get through even ONE DAY without talking about me, you, David, and Jambo only goes to show what the site is really worth. Since banning you, the whole board now nudges along at a handicapped-snail's pace - there's nothing at all happening. One or two posts in the AM, then maybe eight or then more after Miller-time kicks in.
Poor Wooftie: now he has to find constructive ways to spend his time.
I'd say he's three beers short of a full-on nervous breakdown.
Tiny willy syndrome all the way.
Mowl
Member
Well done to the losers on Arsefield's: you're now expected to kiss the arse of an Australian Nazi who cucked the whole fucking lot of you in one fell swoop.
Your wanked-out balls are now in his shirt pocket, and your seed is dripping down your fat and hairy belly and across the stump of your hacked-off little willies into the perineum and on down into your thighs causing a rotten smell of combined piss/shit/smegma/tears/and dripping saliva. He's laughing right into your faces and he's loving every moment of it. Declan can't kick his arse out either as he's too busy driving the pensioners to and from the bingo hall in his van. So Fishit is currently on a shit-stinking high not even Val can beat while sitting in his own shit on the Shitting Ditch and wallowing in it.
I've rarely been proud of any Irish persons in terms of what they use these sites for, but one thing's for sure: you are now in the service of an Australian Nazi who hates you, who hates Ireland, and who hates and despises Australia even more due to him not actually having any roots to speak of, bar his ancestors arriving onto the desert continent after getting caught robbing Trevelyan's corn.
He's old - so he's Declan's kind.
He's a filthy Nazi - so fearful little pensioner-burglar Saul and the drunk lad kiss his arse for him.
He knows a few rare words - which keeps Jambo on his toes checking Google for definitions.
He's weak - so even Saul feels comfortable with him around.
He stinks of piss, petrol, cheeseburgers, and tobacco - which inspires the whole lot of you.
He can spell - so even mod jpc might eventually learn how to use an apostrophe without causing Con Houlihan to turn over in his grave.
He removed Kangal - now Wooftie has no-one to scream at - so his main purpose in life has passed him by.
The whole site is now moving like dried-out old glue down the sharp side a rusty razor blade.
You're all under his thumb, lads. Forget the budget - you're the headline today: five or six Irish lads and one right bimbo-tigger-tiger, all operating under an Aussie aged around seventy-four. Nothing in Budget 2025 is going to do anything for you bar run up even more bills in the longer term: don't forget - that €14Bn wasn't a reality until three weeks ago. It now occupies more than 50% of the giveaway bullshit they're buying you and yours with.
That whole mess is going to explode in your faces, girls - and your only right of reply is via a fat old plastic Yank and an even fatter and older Austrailian corn robber. Your credibility is now down the toilet, along with your few brain cells. If I was cynical enough, I'd be laughing out loud at ye, rather than feeling nothing but dread and pity as to what's coming down the line for the Irish.
Thank fuck I'm off that poxy little island - and away from goons like ye.
I think I realize now why it is I find these blogs so hilarious: you fools really DO take this all very seriously.
Best listen up to Vusi Thabethe here: 'it's not enough, it's never going to be enough money for us...'
And the only white Irish people on the same newscast were all over seventy: so he's the future - your future.
Have fun trying to slag him off without pissing your new Australian Boss off.
He might well decide to silence you, and Declan won't intervene because Declan hasn't a fucking clue how to run a site on his own.
You sad little cucks.
Your wanked-out balls are now in his shirt pocket, and your seed is dripping down your fat and hairy belly and across the stump of your hacked-off little willies into the perineum and on down into your thighs causing a rotten smell of combined piss/shit/smegma/tears/and dripping saliva. He's laughing right into your faces and he's loving every moment of it. Declan can't kick his arse out either as he's too busy driving the pensioners to and from the bingo hall in his van. So Fishit is currently on a shit-stinking high not even Val can beat while sitting in his own shit on the Shitting Ditch and wallowing in it.
I've rarely been proud of any Irish persons in terms of what they use these sites for, but one thing's for sure: you are now in the service of an Australian Nazi who hates you, who hates Ireland, and who hates and despises Australia even more due to him not actually having any roots to speak of, bar his ancestors arriving onto the desert continent after getting caught robbing Trevelyan's corn.
He's old - so he's Declan's kind.
He's a filthy Nazi - so fearful little pensioner-burglar Saul and the drunk lad kiss his arse for him.
He knows a few rare words - which keeps Jambo on his toes checking Google for definitions.
He's weak - so even Saul feels comfortable with him around.
He stinks of piss, petrol, cheeseburgers, and tobacco - which inspires the whole lot of you.
He can spell - so even mod jpc might eventually learn how to use an apostrophe without causing Con Houlihan to turn over in his grave.
He removed Kangal - now Wooftie has no-one to scream at - so his main purpose in life has passed him by.
The whole site is now moving like dried-out old glue down the sharp side a rusty razor blade.
You're all under his thumb, lads. Forget the budget - you're the headline today: five or six Irish lads and one right bimbo-tigger-tiger, all operating under an Aussie aged around seventy-four. Nothing in Budget 2025 is going to do anything for you bar run up even more bills in the longer term: don't forget - that €14Bn wasn't a reality until three weeks ago. It now occupies more than 50% of the giveaway bullshit they're buying you and yours with.
That whole mess is going to explode in your faces, girls - and your only right of reply is via a fat old plastic Yank and an even fatter and older Austrailian corn robber. Your credibility is now down the toilet, along with your few brain cells. If I was cynical enough, I'd be laughing out loud at ye, rather than feeling nothing but dread and pity as to what's coming down the line for the Irish.
Thank fuck I'm off that poxy little island - and away from goons like ye.
I think I realize now why it is I find these blogs so hilarious: you fools really DO take this all very seriously.
Best listen up to Vusi Thabethe here: 'it's not enough, it's never going to be enough money for us...'
And the only white Irish people on the same newscast were all over seventy: so he's the future - your future.
Have fun trying to slag him off without pissing your new Australian Boss off.
He might well decide to silence you, and Declan won't intervene because Declan hasn't a fucking clue how to run a site on his own.
You sad little cucks.
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You were too intelligent for Arsefield's anyway, leave that to the drunken wasters who've nothing better to do with their lives.
You're always welcome to post away on Isle.
General Chat.
It's about time someone destroyed that sub-human bastard. Long overdue.
www.sarsfieldsvirtualpub.com
Hi Mandy, tell your Mam we said hello.
Mowl
Member
100%.
Very.
And tell her that the Russian submarine that docked into Helsinki East port last night had forty-two navvies on board who were allowed out to go and eat and drink while the sub was being refueled: the lads were telling stories about which EU country has the ugliest sluts (these blokes have been under the water for so long that they seriously don't gave a shit what she looks like so long as she's tight, and doesn't talk or ask any questions) - and guess who was on top of the list?
You got it, Mandy.
The one prize Ireland can be truly proud of: your slut Ma Feeney.
Mowl
Member
Looks like the lonely kangaroo-fucker and number one fan of Rolf Harris has finally seen the wood, the trees, and the big mad deep-forest party featuring dozens and dozens of men who like to pretend to be a woman so they can dance around the bonfire in their delicate little petticoats and linen bloomers. SwordOfStSpoof has finally been rumbled on the gay bar site and his two main protagonists have turned on him: Fishface and the drunken sop O'Reilly have finally clocked that they're not just serving a fat plastic Paddy-whack van-driving loser from Ballinasloe, but that they're also expected to take stick from his Number One free labour twenty-fours hours a day unpaid employee Swordid McBloke.
Swordid's played you all, you stupid fuckers.
You bend to his will because you genuinely thought he was a younger woman of virtue rather than the cross-dressing wheelchair-bound hairy-armpitted slob who spends the entire day and night in front of his screen trying to fill in the empty places in what he calls a life. A life spent cleaning up shit-sites like the gay bar site Arsefield's after total lunatics like Jambo and the rest of his 'A Team/Real as Fuck' losers like Saul Bucket, the other drunk bloke O'Reilly (who in all fairness has a mental condition caused by the drink and cannot read anything more than one-liner replies because they distract him from trying to drive while plastered drunk) which he seems to think is honourable and respectable.
It ain't, Mister Ratio O'Fides - it's the single most laughable waste of a life I've yet encountered on these boards.
Your life achievements thus far add up to around twenty-two to twenty-four years of dossing around on chat boards pretending to be a woman for absolutely no money, no favour, no respect, no gratitude, and no sleep either what with putting in the hours on here and keeping your Golah ve Neckbeard account busy over on politics.ie. Your time's up, Mister McWonderBra. Roc already showed the world who you really are, but in order to ensure he gets the credit for this, here's a little something from Swordid's past you might well enjoy - or, if you're completely cucked, you might rage against.
Take a copy, pass it around Arsefield's on whatever thread you like and then watch his response: immediate deletion, every time.
But don't forget, the more he deletes it, the more is revealed - especially if he warns you of a banning for 'not staying on topic' or whatever other excuse he can drum up.
This is not to say that your new boss Fishballs is any better. That old fart is mugging right into your face because he knows that him being an Australian with the keys to the gay bar site means he has far more reach and option than all of you put together. You're currently a little gang of paddy-whackery nobodies being led by the nose-ring by an Aussie Nazi with less teeth than Val fucking Martin.
And no - in case you were wondering? We ALL know you sad bastards have this site permanently open on your devices to see what Mowl's going to reveal next. I gave you Youngdan, and you lot chose to stick your tongues up his hole? You chose to rim him into ecstasy instead of running him out for being the lying old buzzard he is? Same with your new Aussie overlord, who's currently bouncing around the site like a rabid kangaroo. When he starts up another rousing version of 'Two Little Boys' you lot sing the harmonies for him. Perfect pitch too. When he refers to AC/DC - he's not talking about 'Whole Lotta Rosie' or Back In Black'.
Where the fuck did you think he pissed off to for four months, and as soon as he came back he became your Top Poster Of The Month?
You seriously think Declan doesn't know the score?
He might be fat, greasy, rotund, a total spoofer, a bum, a glorified van driver in a zipper-necked cardigan, and he might well eat twenty-seven cheeseburgers a day, but he's not blind. He puts up with the likes of Fishpaste and Mister Swordid because they're the only fools willing to work all day and night for free. It's not about them being more willing to put in the time, because you ALL do that (even if traffic has slowed considerably since Kangal was banned) and it's not about them being in any way more moral or wise than you.
It's about him lording it around and having his minions do his beckoning. And like the mutts you are, you ask how high when he says jump.
You sounded out nothing, O'Reilly - you're too fucking drunk, too ignorant, too obsequious, and too fucking slow to do that. I handed you Declan, hence him now posting as himself, which is safe enough given that all the sites he previously modded have been obliterated and the only evidence of any of them ever existing requires searching about on the WayBack Machine. He thinks he's safe. He knows none of you will ever turn on him the way some of the members of the gay bar turning on Swordid right now.
Face it, losers: you're the rats - they're the pied pipers.
You serve them, they control what you can and cannot say.
Imagine being in thrall to a fucking Australian pensioner?
Imagine that?
Hah hah!
Mowl
Member
You know what else, Mister Swordid?
You fucking DESERVE to have to sit over this type of shit:
This is the average standard reply on Arsefield's. You're expected to abide with this, moderate replies to it, ensure that all the rules are observed regarding this, and that this specimen of utter fucking stupidity is your equal and your team-mate. That's how sad and miserable your life actually is. Even if the bra you claim to be wearing IS of solid gold, and even if the bloomers you wear are 100% polyester, you're still a fish in a fish bowl with your fellow goldfish - turning round and round in circles every passing day but going nowhere.
A goldfish has a surprisingly short memory, that way they don't get bored. Every day it's the same thing: 'whoa! look at all this water! What's that floating on the surface? Dinner? Wow! Awesome! Nibble-nibble: wahay! look at all this water, eh? Wow! Awesome. Oh, look - what's that yoke down below? Sand? Wahahahahahahayyy! Deadly! Loving it! Think I'll do a round of the bowl to see.. .. ....whoa! What's all this water for? Is that SAND? Really? Whoa! Massive...!
Except goldfish don't feel the need to claim to be anything other than what they actually are: stupid fish who look pretty but who turn the water grey with their shit so you have to take them out and scrub the glass and floor clean of their shite. Then you forget about it until the next time. That might be two minutes or two hours, but you'll get to it because that's all you do: scrub.
And as if being a useless fucking scrubber isn't sad enough - you're in bed with the likes of that utter fucking moron quoted above.
That's what you are, Swordid - you're among your equals.
Brainless, useless, unemployable, vacuous, fat old men and women, mostly hiding behind multiple names on multiple sites.
Killing time.
Wasting a life and the oxygen it consumes.
You really are one sad old man, Mate - I honestly do pity you.
But that said, if I heard someone pushed you under a crowded bus, I'd show up for your funeral: to use your grave as an outdoor toilet.
You fucking DESERVE to have to sit over this type of shit:
This is the average standard reply on Arsefield's. You're expected to abide with this, moderate replies to it, ensure that all the rules are observed regarding this, and that this specimen of utter fucking stupidity is your equal and your team-mate. That's how sad and miserable your life actually is. Even if the bra you claim to be wearing IS of solid gold, and even if the bloomers you wear are 100% polyester, you're still a fish in a fish bowl with your fellow goldfish - turning round and round in circles every passing day but going nowhere.
A goldfish has a surprisingly short memory, that way they don't get bored. Every day it's the same thing: 'whoa! look at all this water! What's that floating on the surface? Dinner? Wow! Awesome! Nibble-nibble: wahay! look at all this water, eh? Wow! Awesome. Oh, look - what's that yoke down below? Sand? Wahahahahahahayyy! Deadly! Loving it! Think I'll do a round of the bowl to see.. .. ....whoa! What's all this water for? Is that SAND? Really? Whoa! Massive...!
Except goldfish don't feel the need to claim to be anything other than what they actually are: stupid fish who look pretty but who turn the water grey with their shit so you have to take them out and scrub the glass and floor clean of their shite. Then you forget about it until the next time. That might be two minutes or two hours, but you'll get to it because that's all you do: scrub.
And as if being a useless fucking scrubber isn't sad enough - you're in bed with the likes of that utter fucking moron quoted above.
That's what you are, Swordid - you're among your equals.
Brainless, useless, unemployable, vacuous, fat old men and women, mostly hiding behind multiple names on multiple sites.
Killing time.
Wasting a life and the oxygen it consumes.
You really are one sad old man, Mate - I honestly do pity you.
But that said, if I heard someone pushed you under a crowded bus, I'd show up for your funeral: to use your grave as an outdoor toilet.
Mowl
Member
Nice one, Jambo. You finally found your intellectual equal: Jimmy D and Clarke/Connolly - two little birds sitting in a tree.
I am so ~ ~ so Happy for You ! ! !
Eventually, we all meet our twin soul, except for some it's rather confusing.
Jambo and Clarke/Connolly ~ ~ Two best Buds! ! !
I am so ~ ~ so Happy for You ! ! !
Eventually, we all meet our twin soul, except for some it's rather confusing.
Jambo and Clarke/Connolly ~ ~ Two best Buds! ! !
Gardaí make first ever arrest over false claims made by far right members on social media
Man (40s) arrested in Wicklow on suspicion he wrote social media post falsely claiming migrant had exposed himself to women on bus
"Under that provision, anyone who “knowingly makes a false report or statement” suggesting “an offence has been committed” and which gives rise to “apprehension for the safety of persons or property” has committed an offence. On conviction, that offence carries a sanction of imprisonment up to five years if tried on indictment."
Is Wolf shitting himself?
He should be.
roc_abilly
Member
Looks like Dan's, Feeney's and Swordid's website has started up again with those pedophile libels against this chap Rory O'Connor. Surely they can't get away with that?
Mowl
Member
False claims made by anonymous persons to each other online have zero traction in law. If the claims are serious enough, get on to the relevant authority and make them aware of it. If they see something that piques their interest, then you have a first step. Trying to make charges against an unknown source won't do anything except drain your bank account.
Real names, actual events that are evidenced and thoroughly checked might give a better result.
But you're in Ireland - and if you're a small fry private person, nobody fucking cares either way. It amuses me greatly to see these schmucks take themselves so seriously. They think they're starting rebellions, they use all the trendy terms, but none of 'em ever leave the house to act on their posting content. Learn to laugh at it, it's all a load of bollocks anyway.
I wouldn't worry about the poor fool: after you got the bullet, his postings were reduced by 90%. He has nothing else bar pissing off Mister Swordick by adding piles of newspaper articles onto the Ukraine thread. Other than that, he has fuck all, and the site shows that simple reality. It makes me laugh the way they say things like: 'look at how slow the Isle is lately? We're winning! We have more posts than they do, and we're all online more than they are. We're winning! We've nothin' else to do anyway - but we ARE winning! Yay! Go, Arsefielder's!'
Imagine being so proud of having fuck all else to do bar hang around a Nazi site run by a fat fool and modded by a classic Northern Irish transvestite in a wheelchair, a lock-in, no life to speak of? Then another Australian Nazi prick who shows up when he likes, deletes whole threads without reason, winds the members up, seems to be having a whale of a time posting from down under on the continent of giant rats on two legs bounding all over the place.
Only a complete masochist would put up with it.
They're aware that I am on the site and that I have access to their private threads, but they don't know how.
Here's a hint: which ex-mod on Arsefield's hated the Mowl so much he got himself sacked from his position?
Mowl
Member
Looks like Dan's, Feeney's and Swordid's website has started up again with those pedophile libels against this chap Rory O'Connor. Surely they can't get away with that?
Rory's a decent skin, I know him well. He's no longer in the engineering game, he set up his own company and resigned from contract work because the work was hard and the money shite. He's making more money as a model and a 'special extra', meaning he gets paid not just for being in the background, but actually makes twice that by having additional skills to offer onset. I was asked multiple times if I wanted work as a background extra, but I held out (hoping for a Guinness ad) until I landed a plum little number as a special extra (my musical skills) for another brand of drink. £2, 275 for three days onset.
I won't say it was work as I spent more time hanging out and smoking cigarettes with the rest of the hired hands.
The only actual work I did was getting up on time for my ride out to Ardmore Studios.
But anyway, don't let that sop O'Reilly bother you: he's a useless alcoholic loner living in a Toyota Corolla at the end of the main runway out at the airport. He can't read, gets confused when he faces a wall of text and pleads with even the dumbest of people like Jambo and Clarke/Connolly to explain to him what it's all about. See how Wooftie and Saul Bucket 'LIKED' his post?
It's not referred to as the gay bar site for nothing. The owner is a transvestite:
His best mate is a demented small farmer from Cavan with no teeth who wants to run for the Irish Freedom Party:
And the main (unpaid) moderator SworDick is a trans-man in wheelchair:
It's both funny and sad to see these twats at work.
But mostly sad.
Mowl
Member
Alri' there, Jimmy? Did you hear that Oasis have cancelled the American leg of the tour? Tickets gathered dust this last three or four weeks since the big reveal. Nobody's interested. Which pretty much just leaves Dublin and England as the parties who bought tickets at massively inflated prices. Oasis haven't much of a foothold in the States though, they never did actually. The American audience simply heard rehashed Beatles riffs and thought: 'what? Another band built around their haircuts?'
But that Oasis for you, and their fans too - know wha' I mean, loike?
Well done on ousting that idiot Australian kangaroo-burger eating sap from down under. He always reminded me of this shite, much as Oasis entire back catalogue reminds me of The Beatles, Marc Bolan and T-Rex, and even The Kinks. Though all three of those are absolutely brilliant, you must keep in mind that nobody will remember Oasis in twenty years time. No. Body. Any. Where.
Same deal as we get with this lot:
Any plans to start modding on the gay bar site, Jimmy?
You might as give it a lash - you have fuck all else to do bar lick the hoop off Keith Woods while you're hanging around and waiting for a vocation in life.
Tell us: do you own the standard vintage Parka jacket? Y'know the type - like the Mods wore to Brighton for their face-offs with the rockers? Beaver-tail with high neck and large hood? Over a two-tone suit with the white socks and the slip-on soles? Shirt and skinny tie? Loads of pills in your shirt pocket? A full tank of gas on your Lambretta? Seventeen mirrors on each side of the handlebars? A Spitfire circular logo-type sew-on patch to show that you're true pink-blooded British man of some stature like all the other Jimmy 'Irish' Dawson's out there?
Let's post some Australian music to accompany Fishpaste's lamented departure there this morning?
I bags AC/DC, INXS (with whom I partied in Paris some years back) and of course Rolf Harris:
'...two little boys had two little balls, each had wooden head. And everywhere that Fishytits went, the clap was following behind..'
What's Australia's biggest export, Jimmy?
We know their biggest import is fake Paddies like yourself with your oh-so English/British name.
'There was a fake Paddy named Dawson,
Who's first name was even less awesome.
He liked to lick hoop but it just didn't suit,
So he gave up and called himself: Jimmy D, Electricity, U2 Documentary, Jambo, Jimbo, Jimmy, ANal, etc...'
Poems are the greatest form of flattery, Jimmy.
Mowl
Member
Nothing doing on the gay bar site, Jimmy?
Why not try waking Clarke/Cunnilingus up and try have a deep conversation about hyphens and exclamation marks?
You might also fill your mod jpc in as to how to correctly use an apostrophe - he's a civil service bum, job for life type: thick as concrete.
So all told, you're in great company, you shitstick licking loser of massive proportions.
Why not try waking Clarke/Cunnilingus up and try have a deep conversation about hyphens and exclamation marks?
You might also fill your mod jpc in as to how to correctly use an apostrophe - he's a civil service bum, job for life type: thick as concrete.
So all told, you're in great company, you shitstick licking loser of massive proportions.
Mowl
Member
Aahh, for fuck's sake, Jimmy. What did you do? Sending people gay porn via their PMs? Again?? Well, much as it must burn to be told to fuck off by some of Ireland's dopiest cunts ever also has to mean something good, right? Being booted off everywhere for being an arrogant bastard won't likely change your ways. You're far too messed up in the head for that to happen.
You actually think your schtick is worth something.
Guess what?
It isn't.
Everyone's already long-since bored to the tits with your civic/nationalist, ethno/nationalist, leftist, FLERF - LOLS Keith Woods boring cunt little world of fantasy that you find interesting. For a chess player, you're not exactly the smartest, now are you? Why not try being interesting? Tuned in? Worth dealing with? Or you can continue to gain fuck all bar enemies with your present personality. After all, by the time you're tearing open another slab of Dutch Gold, everyone else will have forgotten about you and moved on to other more interesting things. Like me. Like my life. Like my location. Like how happy I am, and how miserable you are.
I know Ireland's a pain in the bollocks, but you choose to stay, so it's you that has to adapt, not the rest of the population.
What's it like being less popular than any black man walking around Ireland today?
If a black dude did join a site like this, how would you imagine he'd be welcomed?
More welcome than you?
Less welcome than you?
I think we all know the answer to that little conundrum: you're more despised than Irish Negros. More despised than traveling people. Knackers. The homeless. The unemployed. The depressed and weary. Or any foreign fuckers wandering around and shoplifting before settling down for the night in a tent down a piss-stinking lane-way. You must be mortified, no?
I think it's fucking hilarious really. You take yourself too seriously. You take your brain-farts too seriously. Your musings on all manner of nationalism is utterly hilarious. You're a bum, a dole-scrounging loser with fuck all future. Stuck in a rut, frozen in headlamps.
Did they give you a reason for you being booted out or was it Fishlips's last middle finger to the gay bar site?
That's two of the site's most prolific posters dead - within a few hours of each other.
They like Clarke/Comedy better than you - imagine that? The single most stupid human ever to walk the earth? More popular than you? Think about it: for all your yap and all your bluster, you still have nothing. I told you two days ago: your information is useless. Your whole stance is well past its expiry date. Nobody else gives a flying fuck what your trio of gay doom are on about. Maybe if you came out with something original once in a while, we wouldn't all be laughing at you. Think about that while you're peeling the spuds and heating up the pan for another feed of chips and beans.
Poor auld Jimmy.
The awesome Dawson.
All his efforts - deleted and disappeared with the flick of a switch.
Boo-hoo.
Mowl
Member
Weekends on the blogs, it's always a shit-festival of spectacular drama. I shouldn't have mentioned anything about my my access on the gay bar site Arsefield's. Now they're all searching high and low for the Mowl. Nothing new there, but given the number of times I was mentioned yesterday, perhaps I should at least clarify: yes, I have an ancient account on the gay bar site since its inception. I hardly used it back then to post but rather to keep an eye on how you lot were handling my existence. I did the same on Pish back in the day when one decent mod offered me an account they had set up for my own use. It came out of the blue but also at the point where we all knew Pish was going down, so the mod who gave it to me suggested I should screen-grab as many posts with my name in as possible.
Then, the night before the big crash, I mentioned it on the public Pish threads about my being in the most private of threads that only subscribing long-termers had access to. That sent the entire team apeshit and off they went searching about for me with machetes in hand. It was gloriously hilarious. Never laughed so hard at Tadhg, he absolutely flipped his beans and tore into the mod team trying to find out who let me in the stage door.
I've been using stage doors all my life. I leave the ticket queues to you losers to fork out for. I will walk in to any venue anywhere in Europe and be made immediately welcome and brought into the hearth of things with the big boys. Nobody ever stops me, they take one look and think: 'this handsome fucker knows what he's doing, best not interfere..'. Tickets are for punters. Guest list is for guests. Striding in the stage door past security with a nod and out into the front rows is more my thing. Best seats in the house. Always. Why? Internet royalty, my little lovelies. Real world royalty, my beauties.
And why?
Just enter the word Mowl into the standard Arsefield's search box - see how many times my name comes up?
There you have it.
But what you don't have is my hidden Arsefield's account - hidden right there in plain sight.
That's how good the mod team are: useless.
Same reason Fishynipples fucked off after setting you twats against each other. So you got rid of him because of it. Now you're all against each other all over again, but this time you don't really know why. Just that you must maintain the standards of loathing you feel against each other. What else did you imagine might happen after a mod is booted off the site? Harmony? Accord? Hah hah! Fuck that - you guys really are fucking hilarious. Like a sack-full of starving cats. Or rats.
Now we get to see how well Zippy and jambo dance, and it ain't half bad.
Myles is drunk increasingly earlier every passing day.
Saul's casting about, calling some people names but not knowing why either.
It's an hilarious microcosm of Irish life, a diorama of ants pushing balls of shite three times their size along the sand.
You lot are fucking hilarious - but not in the way you might be hoping.
Not one of you has a pair of legs you can call your own.
You're all owned by this specimen of culchie Irish life:
Then, the night before the big crash, I mentioned it on the public Pish threads about my being in the most private of threads that only subscribing long-termers had access to. That sent the entire team apeshit and off they went searching about for me with machetes in hand. It was gloriously hilarious. Never laughed so hard at Tadhg, he absolutely flipped his beans and tore into the mod team trying to find out who let me in the stage door.
I've been using stage doors all my life. I leave the ticket queues to you losers to fork out for. I will walk in to any venue anywhere in Europe and be made immediately welcome and brought into the hearth of things with the big boys. Nobody ever stops me, they take one look and think: 'this handsome fucker knows what he's doing, best not interfere..'. Tickets are for punters. Guest list is for guests. Striding in the stage door past security with a nod and out into the front rows is more my thing. Best seats in the house. Always. Why? Internet royalty, my little lovelies. Real world royalty, my beauties.
And why?
Just enter the word Mowl into the standard Arsefield's search box - see how many times my name comes up?
There you have it.
But what you don't have is my hidden Arsefield's account - hidden right there in plain sight.
That's how good the mod team are: useless.
Same reason Fishynipples fucked off after setting you twats against each other. So you got rid of him because of it. Now you're all against each other all over again, but this time you don't really know why. Just that you must maintain the standards of loathing you feel against each other. What else did you imagine might happen after a mod is booted off the site? Harmony? Accord? Hah hah! Fuck that - you guys really are fucking hilarious. Like a sack-full of starving cats. Or rats.
Now we get to see how well Zippy and jambo dance, and it ain't half bad.
Myles is drunk increasingly earlier every passing day.
Saul's casting about, calling some people names but not knowing why either.
It's an hilarious microcosm of Irish life, a diorama of ants pushing balls of shite three times their size along the sand.
You lot are fucking hilarious - but not in the way you might be hoping.
Not one of you has a pair of legs you can call your own.
You're all owned by this specimen of culchie Irish life:
Mowl
Member
'Brussel's has been renewing pressure on the Republic of Ireland to make historical revisionism, or at least some of it, around a Shoah a criminal offense and in the wake of the genocide of Gazans we will most likely in the EU be bombarded with stuff to do with the Shoah. A thing is that this cynical use will in the minds and hearts of many only strengthen the arguments and appeal of the revisionists. Another thing is that German cultural pathologies arising out of the excesses of the Hitlerite regime and their crushing defeat in World War II seem rather than dissolving with the passing of the years to intensify with them, aspects of this disturbing phenomena are explored in the video below...'
Brussel's? Brussel is has?
How fucking dumb are you, Mister Zipperneck?
'..to make historical revisionism, or at least some of it, around a Shoah a criminal offense..'
Around a what a what-now?
'A thing is that this cynical use will in ..'
What thing? Which thing? A thing? Ting Tong? Ying Tong? Yiddle-eye-po?
'Another thing is that German cultural pathologies arising...'
Another thing? A thing? Which thing?
Brussel's?
That thing?
My fucking jaze, even after you were told off yesterday for being a lazy cunt moderator who never bothers to read his own posts before lashing them up, you hop right in again with your two big mad left feet. You're fucking useless, you know that? Utterly fucking useless. No wonder you spend your life online: you have absolutely fuck all going on in the real world, do you? A lonely old man, likely in wheelchair, likely dressed as a woman as I write, and THIS is the best you can muster on a Friday afternoon while the rest of your clientele are down the shops getting their Friday night slabs and mixers in?
You're supposed to set an example, just like Freaky Clean said to you yesterday. But you don't give a bollocks, now do you? You think you're above all that. Like Val Martin, who's now planning on running for the Irish Freedom Party. Freedom from what? Soap? Warm water? The dentist? A barber? A tailor? Your only upcoming meeting is with the guy who tunes up your motorized wheelchair for you. Him and the weird cat lady who delivers your meals on wheels.
Ever wondered what people really think of you?
No?
Let me fill you in: you're the single saddest case of no-life-having addiction to chat boards.
You have how many accounts on how many sites by now? Six? Nine?
You really do think that these people are your friends, don't you?
You think that if you play nice, they'll let you into their little gang, don't you?
You really ought to grow up and start living before you die, seriously.
Brussel's?
Like sprout's?
With potato's?
And carrot's?
You fucking twat.