Frank

Shut the fuck up, you sad and old deluded cunt.

Overkill.

Jazz’s noxious son was in a wheelchair for over sixteen years. His only impediment these days is a slight lisp, a wet fuck for a father and a weak hand shake.

It’s no secret amongst the membership that I’m at a low ebb. However, apart from the one chinless doorkeeping freak who appears to ‘get’ you, the majority of the board wish you weren’t here. Move on.

What a complete and utter fucking twat you are.

Alf, you sparkless fucking wrinkler. This is a tragedy beyond belief. I’m literally in tears. Know what I mean?

I’m here on the scene, Alf. The fucking thing has gone. Please, don’t start a sentence with ‘So’. Stupid old cunt.

Settle down. Idiot.

There’s a lot of negative vibes around, withers. I’ll always be here for you. See your PM.

He’s not wrong though, is he? idiot.

Not really Alf. Every morning I run from my bijou residence next to St Paul’s Cathedral, across the Millennium Bridge, along the South Bank, over Westminster Bridge and into St James’s Park. I then wend my way through Soho and usually stop for a coffee on Frith Street. I love London.

I’m sorry, eric.. I’ve got nothing. From time to time some cunt has to put you in your place. You’re an idiot.

Shut up you fucking idiot.