Bubba C

Interesting. But isn't Ponty down from everything? Except Abercarn, that place is the fucking pits.

I do, and I only live up the road.

Is bungalow Scottish for 'portacabin'?

You can do what you like, just remember your place.

Quince, Drew liked this. Raise the fucking bar, sharpish.

Mike, you're one of the corners' biggest fucking cry-baby's about nom's going off topic. Yet maybe if you took the time to read what I'd posted, in a severely inebriated state, you'd realise that what you've typed is utter fucking shit. Now, I know you're not a bad guy really, so if you want to collude and go Frank hunting, just say the word. You can be Moral Officer, just keep the quips coming when the troops motivation levels dip.

Hard-boiled or poached, sir?

I was taking about the peppercorn sauce.

Mike, when you reach the age of puberty and start to experience more than manga comics and Hooch purchased with a fake ID, this nom may make more sense. Until then, can you just stick to your one-liners, please? Preferably a line of ricin, up the snooter.

Almost, I can smell it. Although that fishy aroma may just be your wife's axe wound, LOL. Oh no, I've said too much.

You fucking posh prick, William. Why not just go all out and have a dirty protest on the walls of The Harvester you were in?

Cwmbranistan is a fucking massive shit hole, Lucas. Even Spotters wouldn't go there, and he's from Pontypool. Unfortunately, my birth place is not too far away from these vile places, but at least I've moved away to somewhere semi-respectable. And I can't see a fucking bungalow for miles.

Unlikely Gypps, it was fucking shit.

It seems there are very few places where one can dine these days and decide whether or or to leave a tip, depending on the level of service received. Every fucking eatery I visit adds an 'optional' service charge to the bill. Not being a cheap cunt, I always arm myself with a few notes and coins in order to leave a tip if the service has been adequate, or if the waitress has been fit enough to want to fuck. This 'optional' charge is bollocks as it makes you look a right cunt asking to remove it, no matter how fucking ugly the waitress is, or shit the service has been.

I'm in

I very much doubt you can see fuck all, with the view from your 1 storey dwelling being only that of the ankles of passers-by. Do your net curtains hide much of your shame, you fucking meerkat.

Listen up, and listen fucking good, Withers, you fucking vermin, us Welsh cunts love a spoon. We often carve one of the cunts out of a piece of driftwood, call it a 'love spoon', and sell the worthless piece of shit to gullible tourists, such as yourself. Having dined with Frenchmen, raclette style, let's not discuss table manners, shall we?

Depending on whether or not the lazy cunts be arsed to raise a flag. Je suis Cunt.

I'd come along, but as the jamboree would be at your disgusting hovel, I think I'll pass. Bedides, the mere thought of the homosexual, bargain-bucket Eyes Wide Shut type affairs that occur at such gatherings stir my bile ducts. Only joking, Edders, you cunt. Just don't invite any French, they are hideous creatures.

Noted. I've always liked you, Edward.

Yellow is much more a French colour.

Cunt away, you pathetic weasel. It's about time you got noticed.

Just so. And Friday night is 'karaoke night', of which you must buy tickets to attend, as though it's a farewell concert by some global rock supergroup. I imagine that walking into Manky's local dive would cause a scene similar to that in American Werewolf in London, when the hiking 'outsiders' dare to enter the locals' watering hole.

It's a disgusting grief hole, Swarm. The only compulsory dress code is a tattoo of an anchor or dagger on your forearm, from your initiation ceremony for the Merchant Navy.

Very true, Manky, Wales can often be a grey and drab place. However, I'm pretty sure I'd rather it to living in the fucking eternal gutter that is your home. I'm having an internal debate now, would I rather do a few lines of charles, have a laugh, open up my mind to new ideas and concepts. Or, would I rather congregate with my xenophobic, bigoted chums in a disgusting pub, that's only redecoration since the war is the different colour tobacco stains on the wall, and discuss how the fags and the coloureds are taking over the country