Kimmage is a pain in the hole.
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Kimmage can’t write for shit. All his pieces are transcriptions of interviews in the same style…
PK: Tell me about how you felt when you heard.
Interviewee: I was shocked.
Blah blah blah. He’s a fud.
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Would you not call him a cunt and give €5 to charity?
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Yep. Its just a q and a
The shit that @anon98850436 used to love in shoot and roy of the rovers
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I’ll give Kimmage praise for telling Brian O’Driscoll to fuck off and get someone else to be a patsy for his autobiography.
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Well apparently he spent months “prepping” for his scoop with mcillpube
He was Made look like a simpleton by cian Healy.
Tell on…
Ewan liked one of my tweets today, which was nice.
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I bet he replied as well. He’s great that way.
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Thought Chrissy Waddle was dead but he’s only on after 8 tonight. Proper legend, surely a FOTF?
He’s usually on 5live
This’ll be an interview about his career though rather than commentary on current football.
What a player.
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Top top player. Will listen to the podcast in the morning
That’s a decent point. I always knew he was a great player but that’s another string to his bow that I wasn’t aware of. Pointing is grossly undervalued except by the top top analysts.
What a mullet !!!
When sex did happen for Spud, it was generally when he was possessed by a more forceful will. Even then, disaster never seemed to be too far away. One evening, Laura McEwan, a girl with an awesome sexual reputation, grabbed a hold of him in a Grassmarket pub, and took him home.– Ah want you to take my arse virginity, she had told him. – Eh? Spud could not believe it. – Fuck me in the arse. Ah’ve never done it that way before.Eh yeah, that sounds . . . barry, eh likesay, eh right . .Spud felt like the chosen one. He knew that Sick Boy, Renton, and Matty had all been with Laura, who tended to attach herself to a company, fuck every guy in it, and then move on. The thing was, they had never done what he was about to do. However, Laura wanted to do some things with Spud first. She bound his wrists, then his ankles together with sellotape. – I’m daein this because ah don’t want you to hurt me. Dae ye understand? We do it from the side. The minute ah start tae feel pain it’s fuckin over. Right? Because nobody hurts me. No fuckin guy ever hurts me. Ye understand me? She spoke harshly and bitterly. – Yeah . . . sound likesay, sound . . . Spud said. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He was shocked at the imputation. Laura stood back and admired her handiwork. – Fuck me, that’s beautiful, she said, rubbing her crotch as a naked Spud lay trussed up on the bed. Spud felt vulnerable, and strangely coy. He’d never been tied up before, and never been told that he was beautiful. Laura then took Spud’s long, thin cock into her mouth and started to suck him off. She stopped, with an expertise part intuitive, part learned, just before an ecstatic Spud was about to come. Then she left the room. Spud started to get paranoid about the bondage. Everyone said Laura was a nutter. She’d been shagging everyone in sight since she’d got her long–term partner, a guy called Roy, committed to a psychiatric hospital, fed up with his impotence, incontinence and depression. But mostly the former. – He never fucked me properly for ages, Laura had told Spud, as if that was justification for getting him banged up in the nuthouse. However, Spud reasoned, her cruelty and ruthlessness was part of her attraction. Sick Boy referred to her as the ‘Sex Goddess’. She came back into the bedroom, and looked at him, bound and at her mercy. – Ah want you to dae us in the arse now. First though, ah’m gaunnae Vaseline your dick heavily, so that it doesnae hurt me when you put it in. My muscles’ll be tight, cause this is new tae me, but I’ll try tae relax. She toked hard on a joint. Laura was not being strictly accurate. She couldn’t find any Vaseline in the bathroom cabinet. She did, however, find some other stuff she could use as a lubricant. It was sticky and gooey. She applied it liberally to Spud’s dick. It was Vick. It burned into him, and Spud screamed in excruciating agony. He writhed fitfully against his bonds, feeling like the tip of his penis had been guillotined off. – Fuck. Sorry Spud, Laura said, open–mouthed. She helped him off the bed, and assisted him into the toilet. He hopped along, tears of pain blinding him. She filled the sink with water, and then left the room to search for a knife to cut the binding on his ankles and wrists. Balancing precariously, Spud put his cock into the water. It stung even more violently, the shock making him recoil. As he fell back, his head crashed against the toilet bowl and split open above his eye. When Laura came back, Spud was unconscious, and thick, dark blood was oozing onto the lino.
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That was a top top jersey. The Ireland style two hoops on the sleeves, the really wide distance between the adidas and the club badge and the classic Panasonic sponsorship across the geansai. Fantastic!
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Yip, nothing reminds me of Chris Waddle more than the tale of Spuds near thing with laura