Thursday, 8 July 2010

I'm giving away MILLIONS for charidee

------Original Message------
From: Mr. Adada Adada
To: undisclosed-recipients:;,
ReplyTo: xxxxxx
Subject: Re: Charity Request.
Sent: 8 Jul 2010 11:39

Hello Friend,

I am Mr. Adada an Oil merchant in Iraq; i have been diagnosed with esophageal cancer.
It has defied all forms of medical treatment, and right now I have only about a few months to live, according to medical experts, just recently my doctor inform me i have a few weeks to live due to the esophageal cancer. I have not particularly lived my life so well, as I never really cared for anyone (not even myself) but my business. Though I am very rich, I was never generous, I was always hostile to people and only focused on my business as that was the only thing I cared for. But now I regret all this as I now know that there is more to life than just wanting to have or make all the money in the world. I have decided to give alms to charity organizations, as I want this to be one of the last good deeds I do on earth. The last of my money which no one knows of is the huge cash deposit of fifteen million dollars $15, 000, 000,00 that I have with a finance/Security Company abroad. I will want you to help me collect this deposit and dispatched it to charity organizations. I!
t may interest you to know that i

I have set aside 10% for you and for your time.

God be with you.

Mr. Adada

My reply:

Hello, FRIEND!

Dear Mr Adadadadadada Dadadadadada (is there a tune for that, by the way?)

I was utterly amazed and delighted to find you nestling deep within my box this morning. Obviously, bad old news about the cancer. boohoo and all that. Still, onwards and upwards, eh old chap? Must say it is terribly good of you to be thinking of me (and the charities) at this difficult stage for you. Throat cancer is a real pain in the neck.

I am a similarly charitable soul to yourself, and have always tried to live a pious life (preferably steak and ale or chicken and mushroom). I wouldn't worry about the fact that you have been an evil tyrant most of your life - the great thing about God is that as long as you are really sorry about all the prostitutes and killings and whatever, he'll still let you in at the last minute.

Given that you want to give alms to charity and are based in Iraq, I have toyed with the idea of creating a charitable foundation on your behalf to oversee these wishes. However, I have already made a number of phone calls and the response I got to my suggestions of a new charity entitled Let's Send Alms to Iraq was given very short shrift by everyone between A and C in the Yellow Pages. Thank goodness for my 100 free minutes on my mobile contract, eh?

Anyhow, to business. I would like to accept your offer and would love to accept delivery of the full amount ($15,000,000) via Western Union transfer. They have a branch in my local high street so it probably seems easiest that way.

The specific charities I would like to support with your most generous donation are:

Scooby doo-ings
This is a charity that re-homes sexually traumatised animals that have been subjected to vicious sodomy, rendering them unwilling to work as guide dogs if their owner can get that easily confused after three pints of special brew.

Free Cambodian Women
I want to make all women in Cambodia free - a notion I am sure you would agree with. The idea is that instead of having to pay for them by the hour, or night, a central fund would be set up which enables tourists to just book whichever one they want for the evening without having to actually pay for it. This extra saving for the tourist could bring millions of extra visitors to the country, based on the freedom of women, and there would be substantial benefits in supporting industries such as the manufacture of rohypnol, neat vodka, and shallow graves - all of which will still be needed, fee or no fee!

The Louise Bennett Holiday fund.
Poor Louise Bennet was born with no eyes, limbs, ears or lungs. She can survive only by drinking yak's milk through her tear ducts, due to a crippling series of allergies that leave her intolerant of most everyday items including Marmite, Fairy Liquid, dust, oxygen and knicker elastic. I have met Louise on a number of occasions and she is a remarkable young woman. She can only communicate by banging her stumps against a tambourine in morse code, but she has expressed to me that her lifelong ambition is to perform an unaided skydive over the grand canyon in america. I would love to pay for her family and her to travel to america so that she can perform her unaided sky dive, and have been saving money to make it happen. On the plus side, we will probably need one less seat reservation on the return flight, so that will save the charity a few quid.

The summer cull
I live in a beautiful seaside resort in England where every year, the view on the beach is ruined by fat mingers in bikinis. It makes finding the real hotties a chore. This charity will provide a summer home for all the mingers, away from the area, where they will be happy to eat chips and watch Keremy Kyle safe in the knowledge that Greenpeace will not turn up while they sunbathe on the beach and try to roll them back into the sea.

Obviously, these are just a few of my own suggestions - I would love to hear from you about any charities that you would like to give money to, and look forward to your next email with moist anticipation.

Remember dude - it's all for charidee.

Cuddles and love,

Mr Biggles

Tuesday, 9 February 2010

An open letter to Sunderland AFC


Dear Steve Bruce (and the first team squad at Sunderland)

Jesus TITTY FUCKING CHRIST

What an embarrassing display of fuckwittery you are currently treating us all to! I wasn't aware that the current training regime was being overseen by the bastard lovechildren of Charlie Chaplin, the Chuckle Brothers and Morecombe and Wise, but the utterly embarrassing, humiliating FUCK KNUCKLE performances that you have turned in recently would suggest that rather than dribbling footballs round cones and learning how to play incisive one-twos around the opposition's box, you have instead been mastering the art of turning round whilst holding a ladder and twatting each other face-first into piles of cow shit, or leaning on recently-removed sections of the bar in the Nag's Head.

I have never in my life been so APPALLED at a bunch of footballers - and I've supported Sunderland for my entire life. That means I have seen some phenomenal shite (see McCarthy, M and McMenemy, L). But fuck me, you take the biscuit. You take the whole packet of fucking hobnobs, stick them up your arse (individually) and run off into the sunset singing the theme tune from Glee, actually.

It's bad enough that you look like the kid from that Mask film with Cher, if his face was set on fire and put out with a shovel, shortly before a swarm of killer bees took it in turn to sting his face, then force-feed him peanuts just before he discovered a horrific allergy to the fucking things. Then inject him with all the botox left over after Michael Jackson died.

No, annoying as it is looking at you (Mrs Bruce must have one hell of an imagination, if she lets you bone her with a face like a bagful of smashed twats), it is the fact that you somehow manage to send the troops out to battle with such a remarkable dedication to inefficiency that they somehow manage to fuck up like they did tonight.

We were playing BOTTOM OF THE LEAGUE. A team that has not even got enough money to pay the paperboy. A club that has taken hit after hit after hit. A team that had its best players sold without the MD or manager being told. A team that, until recently, could not afford to play its own goalkeeper. A team that has less money than me (and I had to borrow a fiver to buy a bottle of wine to get me through the dismal existence that was listening to your overpaid shitstains lose tonight). A team that is OWNED BY THE FUCKING BAILIFFS. Never before in the history of football has a team been as badly run as Pompey. Tonight, you made them look like a well-oiled machine. We were a Morrisons to their Marks & Spencer.

To recap, we were playing against a team that is about as capable of winning the Premier League as Mohammed Ali is of winning gymnastic floor show (girls) at the next Olympics. A team that is so worried about where the next blow is coming from that they are starting to resemble a squirrel trapped in a room full of rocking chairs. Yet, faced with this glorious opportunity to halt the biggest slide since Lando Calrissian fell into that pit with the tongue things, you and your heroic employees decided that it was not necessary to take advantage of the fact that they were down to TEN MEN after a trifling TWELVE MINUTES and we were ONE NIL UP. No, like a confused former paedophile in a nursing home we decided to ignore the chance to bury the past, and show matron our photo collection.

You FUCKWITS. I admit that I do not yet hold my UEFA B Licence, but if the exam asks 'what should you do when winning one-nil away from home against bottom of the league when they are reduced to ten men?', DO NOT answer 'get two intellectually subnormal fucktards sent off as quickly as possible, then let them equalise while I stand there looking like someone just wanked on my children's faces in the queue for their school bus'. That might help you progress as a coach.

I sincerely hope that our team of multimillionaires learns from this latest unmitigated disaster. I am not hopeful, however. To be honest, I am not especially hopeful that any of them can actually wipe their own arse without getting shit on their chin, but perhaps time will prove me wrong.

In the meantime, I fucking quit. You are not worth the anger and hatred that following you engender in me. It's like going out with a bird who fucks all my mates, just because we went for a pizza 15 years ago and had a nice evening, and you never know, it might happen again sometime.

Besides which, there are only so many tramps I can kick to death in the aftermath of our failures to win without eventually being traced, and your shitehole football club is no longer worth the risk of an official police caution.

FUCK YOU.

Love,

The Fucking Angry Man.

Tuesday, 19 January 2010

The Angry Man - LIVE

Sorry for lack of updates. Busy and shit, innit.

Anyhow, when I was in my prime and replying to lots of emails, I also got a few mails of the 'add me to your msn and we can chat sometime' ilk. I duly did, but no-one ever popped up on my MSN - until today. A young lady (yeah right) by the name of Carapachi. It had been so long since I added him/her/it/them that I could not remember the scam, but it followed the usual rules, building up to me providing my credit card details...

I proceeded to chat with the usual angry man bullshit answers, fully expecting to be cut off after a matter of seconds. To my amazement, with the self awareness of an MPs expenses accountant, the dumb fuckers just kept on trucking. My personal highlight is the song recital - the extra typos suggest that they weren't even cutting and pasting, but actually typing it out. I like to imagine that they were singing along too, but they can't be that naive -can they??

Anyhow, full conversation below - not too clever with formatting so I am in bold and she isn't - hope that the conversation is easy enough for you all to follow but if not stick something in the comments and I'll have a play with it (I ain't no weblord). And if you like it, stick something in the fucking comments anyway, it's take take take with you bastards and I never get any positive feedback on these pages...

carapuchi says: (16:37:42)
hello how are you
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:38:14)
fine thanks, you?

carapuchi says: (16:40:26)
im fine thx babe
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:40:42)
busy day?

carapuchi says: (16:41:55)
not soooo
carapuchi says: (16:41:57)
so where are you from and how old are you baby
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:43:24)
i am from england and i am 32 and a quarter. What about you?

carapuchi says: (16:44:31)
im from uk warwick and im 23 :D
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:44:51)
a whippersnapper, eh

carapuchi says: (16:45:59)
waht do u mean
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:46:25)
young, compared to an old fart like me

carapuchi says: (16:47:47)
no its ok baby no worries :D
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:48:01)
so what do you do for a living then?

carapuchi says: (16:49:02)
i am a bikini model
carapuchi says: (16:49:04)
how about you
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:49:17)
me too! what are the odds!
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:49:42)
i would imagine that is rather seasonal work - how do you make ends meet the rest of the year?
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:49:47)
winter must be tough

carapuchi says: (16:50:38)
yeah
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:51:34)
Do you model for any famous companies then?

carapuchi says: (16:52:05)
not yet maybe soon .... when i got win the contest that i join :D
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:52:29)
which contest is that then?

carapuchi says: (16:53:07)
its a contest in new york bikini modeling
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:53:19)
how exciting.

mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:53:21)
when is it?

carapuchi says: (16:53:46)
this comming feb 14
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:57:26)
how romanti
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:57:30)
romantic, even

carapuchi says: (16:58:03)
sexy romantic :D
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:58:34)
i cant imagine a bikini contest would be very romantic - quite competitive.
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (16:58:57)
My cousin was in one once, it was terrible - the stage was charged by a buffalo and one of the girls was trampled to death

carapuchi says: (16:59:25)
ohh thats sucks :(
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:01:01)
yes it was very traumatic. They had to club the buffalo to death using their shoes in the end.
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:01:08)
poor thing.
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:01:37)
I don't even know what a live buffalo was doing in the british museum, ridiculous

carapuchi says: (17:01:43)
yeah poor thing :(
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:01:46)
where is your bikini contest being held?
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:03:33)
is it near any buffalos?
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:03:36)
be careful baby
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:03:39)
they are big animals

carapuchi says: (17:03:40)
new york city
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:03:55)
yes you said - wondered what building it was in
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:04:00)
its not a zoo is it?

carapuchi says: (17:05:43)
no baby
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:05:54)
oh thank god.
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:06:12)
i think the world has seen enough bikini contests disrupted by animal savagery

carapuchi says: (17:06:28)
baby by the way can i ask you some little favor if its ok to you
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:06:35)
of course you can, sugar cheeks
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:07:13)
which part of warwick are you from, by the way? I am unfamiliar with the grammatical rules in that part of the world, they seem quite baffling at times!
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:07:53)
if your favour is to see a picture of me naked, I am afraid I only have those pictures on my work computer
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:08:06)
but pretty much anything else I will do for you

carapuchi says: (17:09:00)
can you give me a a vote on my pages using my own card info so i can be the top model for the month of january
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:09:21)
isn't that cheating?
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:09:37)
i mean, if i am voting for you because i know you and we are friends?
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:10:24)
i dont mind though. I just believe that if we can't rely on the integrity of a bikini contest, then all that we know to be good and pure in the world may be under threat
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:10:28)
no matter.
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:11:38)
what do you need me to do?

carapuchi says: (17:12:05)
no baby its not
carapuchi says: (17:12:09)
dont worry ok
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:12:17)
i'm not going to jail? you promise?

carapuchi says: (17:13:09)
yeah no worriess just lsiten to me and follow my guide ok
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:14:31)
hmm. okay. But do you cross your heart and hope to die? Stick a needle in your eye? (if you type yes then i will accept your answer on this and we can proceed)
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:15:01)
just type yes

carapuchi says: (17:15:14)
YEAH YES
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:15:17)
and then i need you to do one favour for me before we start!
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:15:35)
will yousing a song for me
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:16:18)
please?

carapuchi says: (17:16:25)
wah do u mean sogn
carapuchi says: (17:16:27)
song
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:16:30)
i'll take your word that you are singing, you just have to sing the lines as i type them

carapuchi says: (17:17:06)
ok
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:17:08)
yes, a song!
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:17:24)
ok, it will only be a few lines, but I will type them
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:17:28)
then you can type them as you sing them
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:17:40)
after the first verse and the chorus, i will do your bidding!
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:17:41)
deal?

carapuchi says: (17:17:52)
ok
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:18:12)
It's 'end of the road' by Boyz To Men.
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:18:15)
It means a lot to me.
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:18:39)
Girl you know we belong together, I don't have time for you to be playing with my heart like this
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:18:52)
You'll be mine forever baby, you just wait
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:19:25)
We belong together and you know that I am right why do you play with my heart why do you play with my mind?
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:19:47)
Daid we'd be forever said it'd never die, how could you love me and leave me and never say goodbye

carapuchi says: (17:19:57)
cool
Girl you now we beolng together, I don't have time for you to playiwith my heart like this oull be mine forever baby you just wait We belong together and you knwo that I am right why do you play with my hert why do you play with mymind?
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:20:10)
When I can't sleep at night without holding you tight girl,. each time I just break down and cry
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:20:27)
Pain in my head oh i'd rather be dead, spinning around and around
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:20:43)
(here comes the choruse - are you singing?)

carapuchi says: (17:20:54)
yeah i am baby
When I can't sleep at nihgt without holding you tight girl,. each time I just break down and crypain in my head oh id rather be dead, spining around and aound
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:21:57)
Although we've come to the end of the road, still i can't let go. It's unnatural (its unnatural) you belong to me, i belong to you

carapuchi says: (17:22:13)
is that your fav. song?
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:22:15)
(you type that bit out while I harmonise at this end, and we are done!)
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:22:20)
yes it is!
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:22:32)
just type out the 'although we've come' bit and i'll be happy
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:22:40)
and then i will vote for you!
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:23:17)
please?
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:25:03)
hello? we need to hurry cos I'm going in a minute! sing my song and tell me how we make you win the bikini contest!

carapuchi says: (17:25:18)
Although we've come to the end of the road, still i cant let go. It's unnatural its unnatral you belong to me, i blong to you
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:25:23)
wow, thank you
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:25:27)
i bet it was beautiful
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:25:33)
i sang it at my mother's funeral

carapuchi says: (17:28:47)
so can i send the first pages to sign up
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:29:07)
oh please do baby, i am moist with anticipation of seeing you in your undercrackers
mikeos@paragon.co.uk says: (17:31:03)
sorry sugarplum, I have to run - but next time you see me online shout me and I promise I will vote for you, I ,may be online later! I love you!

Friday, 20 November 2009

Russian brides. It has been a while.



I've not pursued a Russian bride for a little while, but something about this lady's fringe spoke to me. Here is her first email to me, along with my reply below. I bet myself a mars bar that she doesn't respond to this one. It's a bit dark.

Hi stranger!
My name Kristina. If to be fair, I do not know what to write to you as I for the first time get acquainted on the Internet. But I nevertheless shall try to make it.

I never got acquainted the first with men, in fact men always begin acquaintance to women. I in general am very happy, that could write to you as I badly know a computer and for a long time could not be registered on a site. But with the divine help at me it has turned out. I was interested with your structure and I have dared to write to you. I with impatience shall wait from you the answer. Probably you my second half! I very strongly want to find to myself of the partner in life as to me 31 years, and at me are not present the family and children. In fact time leaves very quickly and we shall not notice, that the life has already has passed by, and we and have not understood for what lived. Forgive, I already probably have bothered you with the reasonings:).

I want to write to you a little about me:My growth of 5.7 foots, weight of 54 kgs. I have attractive appearance and a harmonous figure.I am very cheerful and joyful person with sense of humour. I like when concerning the man and the woman, the leader the man. You can be the leader in attitudes? I always listen to opinion of the man and I adhere to it. I the quiet woman also do not love quarrel. Well, on it I shall finish the letter. Tomorrow I shall come again into the Internet of cafe and I shall be very happy to see your letter. I shall give you my e-mail for fast communication as it is very difficult for me to write to you on a site and I do not know as you to send the photo. Through e-mail I can send you her without problems.

Please reply only to my personal e-mail: xxxxx@yahoo.com

I with the big hope wait from you the letter. Good-bye.
Kristina.


MY ANSWER

Good felching, Kristina!

I feel very lucky that you have contacted me, as I have not received many contacts through the fetish dating site. However, you are beautiful in many ways, firm of fringe and hooped of earring. You are of particular interest to me because you bear a striking resemblance to my ex wife, and I think that perhaps in time you can replace her. It would be most handy if you could.

See, the thing is, I like a bit of the rough stuff with women, if you catch my drift. Nothing too serious, just light whipping, bondage, domination, choking, anal rape, genital piercing, pissing, suffocation, that kind of thing. Now, with the missus, who looks a lot like you, things went a bit too far. With hindsight, the chainsaw was always going to be a dangerous addition to our torture dungeon, but what’s done is done and luckily the walls are thin so her death gurgle would not have been overheard.

It does, however, leave me with a little bit of an issue. I’ve told the neighbours that she has gone to stay with her mother for a couple of months, but at some point they are bond to start asking questions and I’m going to need a replacement who looks the same – at least from a distance. I was wondering, if we chat over email for a while and hit it off, how you would feel about coming over here and marrying me? You look close enough to the (now) ex, and I think we can get around some of the problems in public by getting you to wear a burka and pretend you have converted to Islam.

In return I will provide you with free lodgings, food and all the rest of it – you just need to be willing to adhere to the following routines that I enjoyed with the wife in order to avoid arousing suspicion, and then we could have a wonderful life together.

Monday: Monday is traditionally spitroast day in my house. I usually invite a few friends over – Adolf, Uncle Josef and Peter Sutcliffe – and we will enjoy a really good spitroast. You will be expected to provide us with that, and not to complain. You will also need to clean up afterwards, which can include the unsightly task of getting the lumps out of Adolf’s moustache.

Tuesday: you will be expected to deliver pharmaceutical packages to a number of locations across London. You will not open the packages, and you will not ask the names of those you will meet. You will be contacted by them via cell phone only, and if you are discovered, you are to tell no-one and insist the packages were for personal use only.

Wednesday: Free time.

Thursday: It is traditional on this day that my wife and I will visit our nearest nature reserve where I will bait, trap and kill a wild squirrel. You will then be expected to lick its nuts before we barbeque it and serve it with a nice Chablis.

Friday: Party night! I traditionally host a lavish ballroom affair, with wine on the tables, 50-60 guests, a live jazz band, great food fron internationally-recognised chefs and an after-dinner speaker. You will be expected to look after everyone’s coats.

Saturday: Some friends and I adopted a young girl a few years back, and we share responsibility for looking after her. She normally stays inside, but to keep her fit and healthy, it is inevitable that she will need to leave her quarters from time to time. You are to take her for a brisk walk, then return her to the dungeon. You will need to keep her on the lead at all times as she has a record of escape attempts.

Sunday: I am a church minister, so you will be expected to attend the morning service with me, then provide afternoon tea for other women of the parish, and occasionally attend church fetes and such like with me.

How does that sound to you? Please write back and let me know as soon as possible!

Much love,

Thursday, 16 April 2009

People in open plan offices who tell everyone everything that they are doing. As they do it.

You know the sort. Every office has at least one of these fuckers; they seem so bastard determined to justify their existence and look busy that you end up knowing every shitty detail about their meaningless, empty, piss-poor lives. They will have a phone conversation, then relay it back to you immediately afterwards. Even when you can hear it to start with.

'Hi is that Wilson's? Great, can I book 200 leaflets, A4, to be delivered by Tuesday? I can? Thanks, that's great'
*hangs up*
*sidles over on chair*
'I just phoned Wilson's. I've booked 200 leaflets, A4, to be delivered by Tuesday.'

Thanks. For. That.

I'm saving up for a shotgun. Not sure whether I will shoot them or me, but the pain will end either way.

Wednesday, 15 April 2009

Redknapp. Literally. AGAIN

I will have to shoot him. apparently, tonight the ball "literally exploded off Ronaldo's boot."

Did it? DID IT? YOU STUPID FUCKING SHITE. His wittering, inane, badly-phrased bullshit continues to pollute our screens. you could see Souness tonight on Sky getting so pissed off with him interrupting that he stopped even trying to answer back, sank into his seat and counted to ten. He is so fucking dumb he even contributes himself. 'Ronaldo is different class, even though he has not had such a great season this year' at which point Ruud Gullit said 'It is crazy that people are saying it is a poor season, it is only because last season was so amazing for him. He is still top scorer in the Premier League and playing brilliantly, it is silly to say he is not having a good season'. To which Redknapp responded 'Yes, it's madness people saying he is not playing well when he has been fantastic this year, last season was amazing for him and he has been superb this year too' BUT IT WAS YOU THAT JUST SAID IT. JUST NOW I HEARD YOU, YOU FUCKING COCKMUNCHER. Just because he lacks the mental capacity to recall anythnig that happened more than 5 minutes ago, he assumes that the entire country is as thick as he is. I hope he gets AIDS and his face drops off. Live on television. And then it is eaten by a horse.

People that 'chillax'

Because relaxing, or even the more modern variant of 'chilling out' (a hateful enough term in itself) isn't quite enough to demonstrate how achingly fucking cool you are, is it. You spiky haired, media-course-graduated, rose-drinking, Jamie Oliver-watching CUNTS. Updating your facebook status with 'chillaxing' is EVEN COOLER, because it makes it sound like you are probably listening to some really cool laid back band that the rest of us haven't discovered yet on your wireless iPod speakers (RRP: £300) while sipping wine on your fucking decking while looking out over your perfectly manicured lawn, probably waiting for some really cool mates to come round later and chillax with you while you eat houmous and pitta bread. When in actual fact you are probably laid on the sofa eating pizza and half-heartedly trying to knock one out over that Northern Irish bird off The One Show. It is a dismal attempt to hide the crushing dullness that is our spare time, and it can just fuck the fuck off. What did you do last night, Greg? Oh, just chillaxed at the pad with my missus. When in actual fact, you sat in the spare room playing Football Manager till 2 am while she read a book then went to bed.

At least I am honest about my downtime, and never pretend to chillax. I'm perfectly comfortable with admitting that I kill prostitutes in my spare time instead. Chillaxing CUNTS.