Mowl
Member
I thought the "Marcus Lounge" was a nice touch, btw.
You're some seriously sad bastard really though, aren't you?
In the end
In the end, they put Marcus in the ground.
And nobody cares now any more than they did then.
But he was once your bosom buddy, wasn't he?
Your sad bastard A Team?
Skin-crawling, Jimmy - skin crawling all over.
Of course, Dec did it in his usual ham-fisted way..
Dec now, is it?
You fairly rammed your tongue up his fat arse as well, didn't you?
You're utterly shameless.
Which is hardly news.
Completely deleting the existing GCT instead of renaming it
Nobody cares, Jambo.
Nobody.
Anywhere.
Ever.
So tell us: what's your goal with all this bullshit copy/pasting and relaying other people's tweets from these dank and dodgy sites you frequent? What's the ultimate intention? Do you even have a purpose, or are you just tapping up the time and waiting for something to happen? Anything at all? Do you think some day someone might message you with an offer of working online re-posting other people's tweets and shit for easy money?
Or that you might get invited onto The Late Late Show to talk about your online adventures? Sitting there in the guest seat, nattering on about The A Team and the missing General Chat Thread, how Marcus died, and how it affected your work after he had the lounge named after him? About how Declan's such an ass. How he's nothing but a van driver in Southie with a fat gob and even fatter arse? That he never really appreciated you or your work?
And the audience are lapping it up, every word of it: their mobile phones in hand, writing posts to Discussions.ie and Arsefield's while you sip a little water and compose yourself for your next anecdote about how Zippy was a good and true friend who guided you in your early days and showed you the ropes? Then some little insider joke about him being a her and her being in a wheelchair?
I thought this one was a bit too spicy for my thread on discussions![]()
Again: you overestimate yourself.
In the real world you're just a spit-shine boy, still in knee-pants, still dreaming about how life's gonna be great even though you're out of time already.
It's all over, Jimmy - your schtick has no prick - and neither do you.

