Decimus

Very true in certain instances. Said cunts have usually attained their positions however by virtue of the Old Boys Network. MC, whilst having no discernible talent, is also by his own admission from some disgusting slum in Manchester. You don't become a corporate entity at Taylor Wimpey when the only connections that you have are to Rastafari drug dealers and Canal Street drag queens.

Being confused about sanitary products is the least of his problems. He's got 14 hours to become a multi-millionaire and move his bin-bag of possessions out of his Wendy house and into a seven bedroom mansion. Inevitably, five of those hours will be spent on a futile attempt to tie his own shoelaces.

Indeed. It's no coincidence that Drew the shrew has popped his wrinkly bald head above ground for the first time in days, attracted by the promise of oiled pecs and snail trails. Drew, you fucking disgust me.

As much as it pains me to admit it, if Roops made crass claims regarding her wealth, I'd quite likely believe her, as unlike you she can string a few sentences together. You seem to be under the impression that people are jealous of you, or incredulous that someone who chooses to post on here could be financially successful. Let me assure you, it has absolutely nothing to do with any of the above. The reason no one believes you is that in all of your 1570 posts made thus far, you have come across like a complete fucking idiot, without a single indication that you are mentally capable of accruing a vast fortune. I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but illiterate simpletons by their very nature don't make huge sums of money. You're a fraud and I challenge you to prove me wrong. If you don't, you're finished here. The ball is in your court.

I'm looking forward to this. @Stubby Pecker whilst we're in the mood for big reveals to back up spurious claims, it would be greatly appreciated if you could tag evidence of your "papers" onto MC's upcoming stock photo of Buckingham Palace. Ta.

My mistake, Eric. It's often easy to forget that MC is a property construction magnate, what with his complete lack of even the most basic knowledge of planning regulations. @Monumental cunt I reckon you'd struggle to build a sandcastle, let alone a fictional construction empire. What do you think about that?

And you never went to school, hence why you're a mind-numbingly thick cunt working a minimum wage night shift job. Unless there is another reason you only seem to regularly post at two in the morning? It's just that most multi-millionaires are in bed at this time, or balls deep in coke and whores, not posting inane shit on a weird little website at the arse end of the internet. I await your inevitable massively contrived, appallingly spelt response.

Can you get tickets to Last Night of the Proms?

Are you Englishman or a mouse? They're only fucking dagoes. Bang a couple of their greasy fucking heads together to the tune of Drake's drum, then cry God for Harry (Kane), England and St George.

With renowned artist Rolf Harris leading the charge.

I doubt that your fat fucking sausage fingers would be capable of inflicting any sort of trauma beyond leaving permanent grease stains on his eyelids.

If his prostate hadn't been utterly ravaged by cancer, I'm sure that Withers would be nursing a quite marvellous chubby right now.

Are you sure that you wouldn't be more comfortable in Benidorm?

Indeed. It tell's you a lot about the efficacy of Norfolk Constabulary when the criminal world's equivalent of Jabba the Hutt can successfully hide the murder of a dozen prostitutes whilst possessing all the cunning of a turnip.

Sadly, the only thing I think about when someone mentions France and ball-fondling fowl these days is Withers. I understand that it's taxonomically incorrect to include geese in the fowl family, but if it's feathered he'll fuck it.

You must be the only minimum wage, railing-painting simpleton obsessed with gratuitous violence in this country that doesn't like football. Remind me again of some of those hard living, rock'n'roll star characters of the cricket world. You're quite clearly some sort of outrageous homosexual. Idiot.

It's a great social leveller and brings people from all walks of life together. Take you and I for example. We could sit in a pub and talk for hours about football, and probably enjoy each others company. Without that common reference we would be fucked. I don't know about you, but I couldn't sit there listening to you bang on and fucking on about what your favourite type of ginster pasty is whilst waxing lyrical about whatever godawful fucking manual labouring job it is that you do. God bless football.

I'd wager his arsehole has.

The problem isn't the quantity of the cover, it's the quality. In reality it's an absolute fucking blessing that the inane ramblings of Joleon Lescott are only broadcast for fifteen minutes. As an addendum, what the fuck is wrong with his head?

I'm on sixty a day you silly cunt, I haven't had a chubby since France '98.

9 months later and this fat cunt still isn't dead. Another lunch time break enjoying the sun has been completely ruined by the stench of beef and onion Aldi crisps, festering vaginal-fold sweat and pervertesque heavy breathing.

I strongly suspect that the only shit you've ever had published is in the readers stories section of Attitude magazine.

A tad harsh, Stubbers old bean.