Arsefield's Hall of Shame
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Mowl
Member
Dan was spotted at a club in Downtown Boston last night.
You'd spot those stumpy little hands and the five stubby thumbs on each a mile away.
Must have been pay day: he rarely looks this healthy.
Apparently, if you count all the numbers on his dress and add one cent for every one of them, you would then have the gross net of his entire fortune from buying silver, copper, tin, and brass finally accounted for: $2,972, 06. The fat and useless fucker.
Mowl
Member
He doxxed me by posting a picture of a street sign he found on Google Maps.
Gave it all away, so he did.
All he needs to do now is figure out which of the four hundred+ houses along that road I used to live in - around thirty-five years ago - in the last century.
I gave the other clown Milf my Finnish address - apparently he wants to bring me some flowers and chocolates or whatever.
What a doofus.
Gave it all away, so he did.
All he needs to do now is figure out which of the four hundred+ houses along that road I used to live in - around thirty-five years ago - in the last century.
I gave the other clown Milf my Finnish address - apparently he wants to bring me some flowers and chocolates or whatever.
What a doofus.
Mowl
Member
Isn't it sad to learn that poor auld Wilf is addicted to child porn?
Child porn of the rapey-nature too.
Wonder what happened to him, he must have got the whiff of cock and had to sample some for himself.
Poor chap. I bet his wife's sucking cock all over Ireland while he's on Arsefield's yapping about priests and sharing cigars with them. Maybe as a prelude to some good old-fashioned shirt-lifting. His wife must be dripping sperm every time she comes home - if she comes home at all. She probably thinks he's a queer anyway. There's no way any decent civilized woman would put up with such a lazy and useless cunt for long. When he's not looking at child porn he's drinking, and when he's drinking she's out on the tiles offering free head to anyone who asks.
Rumour has it she's made a few porn movies in her time. She was shagging that Irish porn star, the knacker bloke from the northside with the massive schlong and lots of prison tats. I wonder if she's the same one who got fucked senseless by 1015 men there last week? There's certainly a bang of desperation off Wilf even on his good days. Maybe I should give the poor cunt a few clatters to get him back on course when he comes up to Finland to deliver me some nice white lilies and a few boxes of chocolate.
I can just see the look on the poor cunt's face when he steps out of the airport.
That'll probably be the RyanAir airport, the military airfield just outside Tampere in middle Finland. He'll have to take a train from there to Helsinki, which means he'll have to try to speak a little Finnish. Can you imagine the poor sap? Wandering around the town with his thumb in his gob and his other hand in his pants.
The wife of course will have half of Nigeria over to spend the time he's away banging holes all over his slut wife.
it's the kids I pity.
Their real father is apparently a black man from deepest Angola. Home of the AIDS virus. And dog herpes - which he probably caught off her when he last had to do a run-and-fetch for his boss. Poor Wilf, his missus likely hates him. I bet she knows fuck all about his online persona: meek and mild, serving her tea and licking her hole clean for her when she comes home after a long weekend of getting fucked like a train by most of central Africa.
Wilf, and his tiny willy - pleading with her not to leave him.
Can't wait to clatter nine shades of AIDS out of the sad rat bastard.
He knows where to find me.
Pity he can't say the same about his cheap-assed whore for a wife.
Mowl
Member
Not much of a bang out of your boom, is there Winifred?
You had to edit it too? Aww, poor wee liddle snookums. It sucks when your gang doesn't agree with you, eh? You think you're tough, but check this: you're only anonymous because you haven't the balls to stand over what you spew out onto the intersnots. That doesn't make you brave, Wilfy - that makes you a coward. A rat bastard coward living a lie, like the lie your wife lives. Pretending to love you when she doesn't even like you, never mind how much she despises you. She knows exactly what you do with your time when she's at work, and if she doesn't then she's some fucking dumb tulip, no?
So what has you surfing the net for videos of some convicted child abuse prisoner I helped send down? You like watching kids getting beaten and buggered? Have you buggered your own kids recently? How recently? You never seem to shut up about it and your respect for the defrocked Anthony Walsh is legendary by now. Strange the way the usually pseudo-pious Swordid doesn't react to your child abuse predilection, eh? He rants about the Jews, the Goyem, the bishops and the bastards, but then stands aside when you come running onstage with your placards screaming about your joy at Walsh's vile antics.
What's it like being a fully-fledged supporter of rape and violence against children, very small and rather defenceless children? Every time you get a chance you start in with the padre this and butt-plug that. Do you spend a lot or a little time watching child porn videos and downloading pictures to wank to later on? When was the last time you had to check yourself when you looked in the mirror and asked yourself why you're addicted to child porn?
No wonder your slut wife's out sucking cock all day and night: you've probably banged yourself so hard that her flabby tits and lumpy arse no longer give you the horn. The black lads don't mind that at all, though: they like 'em like that. Slutty, cheap, pale bluey white skin, and more than willing to try disgusting new things with strange men. After all, if you can't fuck her properly, then she's bound to turn to strangers for her pent-up sexual relief.
Gas the way it took you less than eleven minutes to reply to my previous post, eh.
Poor Wilfred - can't stop digging the Mowl's style and grace.
You can trail around after me all you like, but face it: you'll never be the legend I am.
The only thing you'll be remembered for is your admiration of child rapists.
Mowl
Member
You mean Marcus? The bzzzzzt! chappie? Sadly, your buddy Saul went into the ground with a guilty conscience. He knew perfectly well that he wasn't capable of stopping his bastard child from robbing the local old folks, and although I tried to help him with that, he hadn't the balls to act on the assessment I made I made for him. But that's his own bad cess - nothing to do with the Mowl.
If you want to remember him and 'everything he was' then reread the above short paragraph aloud while standing over his grave.
Try not to take out your little willy and have a wank over his headstone - he wasn't gay after all.
Besides, why the staff on Arsefield's put up with you is a mystery to me.
Maybe it's down to the fact that if they did fuck you out on your ear, then site traffic would probably crawl to a stop with only Clarke/Mongo and Swordid chatting about Jews and Ayn Rand while Jambo posts a few Oasis videos a day, in between whatever memes are thrown his way by Keith Woods. Oh, and Declan 'Roundy' Kelly talking about his starvation diets (lies) and his long walks around Dedham at night (more lies) to nobody at all in particular.
You saps really are some sad shower of cunts.
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Mowl
Member
Perhaps you could spend a little of your infinite available time to ask Swords why he boots your A Team pal Myles off the site for mentioning the male model and electrical engineer Rory O'Connor of 298 Spangle Avenue Sandyford Co Dublin and let's YOU say what you like about your Gowl? By the time Myles is sober enough to read a post maybe he ought to file a complaint?
The A Team, jeeeez.. ...composed of one hopeless drunk, one (now-dead and in the ground) failure of a culchie father/husband racist bastard, and Jambo: a loser of such epic human proportions it makes me want to laugh out loud while crying at the hopelessness which Ireland's in store for as soon as his meds start to kick in.
As for getting it up?
Jambo: you live in Ireland, and you dislike black people, Asian people, in fact anyone with a slightly differently toned skin that convinces you that they're lesser humans, and that you therefore would most certainly NOT commune with any of them. Which pretty much leaves your available options limited to Irish slags. Now, there are all sorts of fucks, but fucking a fat slob Irish bitch on a regular basis? Nah, you know as well as I do it'd be better to just have a quick wank and then a clean-up so your can clear your mind of sexual frustration at the fat nasty Irish hoors in their mini-mini skirts and tree-trunk thighs while trying to navigate the cobbled streets of Temple Bar in a pair of nine-inch heels and sucking from a bottle of some trendy blue-coloured plonk from Belgium.
Irish slags, Jimmy.
They're your only current option - so if you really DO find yourself in need of a shag - that's what you get.
Me?
I live in a candy shop full of Finnish beauties more than willing to spend time with me.
No strings, no problems, no hang-ups and no money exchanged.
You might think that it's cheaper to hire a hooker to come to your house, and you'd be right there for once in your miserable existence. Taking an Irish slag out entails:
Waiting in a taxi at her door with the meter running while she trowels on the slap, tries to find something/anything that her arse doesn't look like an elephant in, a bag with seven bottles of blue alcoholic drinks by WKD so she can start getting langered in the taxi before getting to the pub, at which point she's lashing back the pints and flirting with everyone while you stand there picking up the tab. Irish mutants. Like Feeney's Missus: she's like a walking Picasso, sharp angles and pointy bits all over the place.
That's more or less what's available to you, Jimmy - and I know it hurts.
Tell you what: come up to Helsinki (it's February and there's no snow at all, plus I'm sweating in a bathrobe with all the windows open) so you know it's all good.
I can show you how it's done.
Mowl
Member
Some 39,000 homes, farms and businesses still without power as storm recovery continues
Some areas in the west are not estimated to have their power restored until late Thursday.
www.thejournal.ie
Jambo: so tell us: while you're sitting on your hole and trying to define the exact nature of your Ethno-Nationalist ideals, we up here in Finland sent down a bunch of professionals to help to rehang your
'The Irish are very funny, everything is a joke for them. There is some irony in their sense of humour in making jokes about these things but it also seems that they cannot take anything seriously. Not for long at least. Work time passes quickly with so much banter and joking all around. But sometimes we had (to) agree to all wear our ear muffs because the laughing and joking was very distracting. That would be very nice if there wasn't still tens of thousands of people without power across the country, but to us this was a serious expedition. We never expected so much joking and conviviality. We expected to have a plan to study but we never received one and had to go to work in all sorts of places both urban and rural. It's both charming and extremely worrying. Were Finnish workers in the field of national grid services who spent their days laughing and acting the fool, they would be demoted again and again until they realize that public services are exactly that: you the public have paid for them. Your government and institutions are supposed to take these things seriously'.
Not even a mass grid wipe-out that shattered the entire island during the recent
I honestly gagged a bit when I saw that on the news.
I know their experience like the back of my own hand.
'Ah, but yannow but.. ..it's eh, ah, sure.. ..fuck it.. . ...fuck it anyway. Be grand'.
I think a proper test of your love for Ireland and her many Irish people, a show of your bullshit nationalism could actually gain some traction from all this - but it requires you to get up off your hole and do something for your country. Something more than mere armchair proselytizing. Get out of the house, get your hands as dirty as Val's. Help your elderly neighbours, and if you have none then find someone looking help, like a homeless Irish person. Like feeding the kids outside the GPO some hot soup. Like attend a rally - even if only to guffaw at the real protestors.
Take your dead friend Saul Buckett: he was a nationalist. He was also a racist bastard. In moments of rage he'd fling the N word around like confetti. He also fathered a bit a of a bastard child who targeted elderly people for his burglar sideline. He called for deaths, shootings, hangings, evictions, beatings, and lots more ugly stuff. You fools trying to eulogize him today are way off target - very far off target. He was a typical type who could shapeshift his politics depending on the incidents of the day. He was dumb, malleable, easily led, easily fooled. No doubt his wife found that aspect of his nature rather sweet, but with sweetness also came divilment. Saul's life ended abruptly and to no great fanfare. Not one of you bastards attended his funeral. None of you sent flowers, and don't be trying to tell me you didn't know his address: I know his fucking address and I'm on the other side of Northern Europe.
You recently re-elected the same man who stabbed you all in the eye as your rotating Taoiseach. Or did you not? Maybe the first question should be: 'did you vote at all?' I doubt it. From where you're sitting your first reply is a bark of laughter and a few emojis. That the vote means nothing. That protests mean nothing. That conscientious objection means nothing. That silent discordance isn't really all that silent.
If only you could see what I see when I cast my eye in your direction.
Perhaps then you might understand what a fucking drip of stagnant piss you actually are.
Mowl
Member
Like its owner, it has AIDs.
Irish IQ and Richard Lynn: tell us, Jambo - if your claim that your IQ is so fucking high and you're so fucking smart, then why are YOU still stuck on that hopeless little fucking rock while I'm flying free and happy in the world's happiest country? How come your IQ leaves you planted dead centre of the Irish debt, it's baffling economic situation, it's fucked-up lifestyle, and its general malaise?
Nothing very smart about that, now is there numb-nuts?
Your entire world is built on misery. Everywhere you look you see problems, yet you can't seem to avoid being centre-stage in all of them? All of your ideas come from the same place, and if that isn't complete idiocy at its most raw, then what is? You have one subject of discussion in your entire existence, and it's so sad and full of shit I can only assume you're happy enough right there on the toilet bowl.
Some days my heart honestly does weep for you, you pathetic stream of warm mongrel mutt's piss.
Mowl
Member
Nice work, Jimmy D.
You're doing my job for me: grinding even fucking Arsefield's to a halt with your boring schpeil and endless telegrams from pencil-neck Woods. Your nationalism means nothing. Fuck all. Niente. It's furthest reach thus far is you having pleasant convos with Swordid. Imagine that? The two most boring one-track minded sad bastards you've ever seen. In harmony? And in full technicolour?
You're a loser, Jambo - a total fucking loser.
Kill yourself - nobody will care.
Just do it.
You're doing my job for me: grinding even fucking Arsefield's to a halt with your boring schpeil and endless telegrams from pencil-neck Woods. Your nationalism means nothing. Fuck all. Niente. It's furthest reach thus far is you having pleasant convos with Swordid. Imagine that? The two most boring one-track minded sad bastards you've ever seen. In harmony? And in full technicolour?
You're a loser, Jambo - a total fucking loser.
Kill yourself - nobody will care.
Just do it.
Mowl
Member
You're a fucking moron, Roundy - a fat fool with notions.
Your son is a faggot, you mean.
Just like his long streak of fat piss Da, Roundy Kelly.
The fattest fool in Dedham.
Oh, and a wealthy man by all accounts: you can tell, right?
Spoofing fucking cunt.
Get real, you sad bastard - your life's already over - and you failed at every turn.
Busy yourself getting even fatter - all that awaits for you is total obliteration, you slimy shit-stinking sweatball culchie fat knacker rat bastard whore's melt.
Just die.
Die, you fat fuck.
Mowl
Member
No, not really.
If anything, you're 100% completely fucking fucked, you fucking fuck-witted fuck.
Get your long snake tongue out of my arse, old Man. Lick your own old balls, or have your cat do it for you.
You may think you're smart, informed even.
But you and I both know this one simple fact: your life is a waste of oxygen. Thus far in life and what have you achieved? Well, how about the fact that you put in eighteen to twenty hours of unpaid work on Arsefield's every passing day for years by now, and on top of that - now that you've been demoted to private rank: spud-peeler, WC cleaner, and rimmer of more arseholes than I can count with a Casio calculator from 1976 - your hours put in on P.ie over the last twenty years before they fucked you out for pretending to be a girl (what is it with long-term bloggers that they all have fucked-up heads about their own sexuality?) so now you're just grifting your way along as Golah the ball-licker, no mod position to keep you there and yet you're still all over it every passing day?
You are a walking picture-perfect example of a total fucking loser, Bloke.
Your act simply isn't believable any more - so why not get out of the fucking closet and kill yourself?
Seriously - why don't you just stick your fingers into the socket while taking a bath?
You won't have to lie or pretend any more.
For once in your miserable fucking life you'll taste the free air normally only enjoyed by the brave and adventurous, of which you are not one.
Die, Golah - slash your wrists, film it, let me see you slice into your own veins. Let me see it spurt out all over the lino and the flowery wallpaper. Let me see the cat turn her nose up at it while the dog laps that shit up. Let me hear your final breath so that I may sleep better at night. Let me see the blood drain from your face as you turn ashen grey and your eyes (which are far too close together) blank out as you suddenly begin to realize what a fucking waste of everything you really are. Let me hear you scream out in horror: 'my God - what have I done?'
We can lay you to rest somewhere in the middle of the bio section of the landfill nearest your little hovel. We can poke a lat of wood into the dirt above your rotting carcass marking the spot out for anyone needing a quick slash outdoors. Or a shit. Your very own personalized Shitting Ditch.
You are nothing short of a truly fucking sad case: yet I can't bring myself to pity you, old man.
Instead, I loathe you.. ..and can't wait for the day you die to come around so I can laugh you into the dirt like I did with the Bucket.
Fuck him, and fuck you - just fucking die, you sleek sewer rat.