She’d beat the head of ya and leave in a pool of your own blood.
I’ve given that a like.
Have you, and what exactly would you do to her?
Ride her, call out her sister’s name half way through and hold on for dear life
Nobody was talking to you
Nobody was talking to you? I am and plenty more. Fucking oh’ I don’t like bullies’ grow up you gimp
The drugs haven’t affected you one bit
Just pointing out your double standards
He has no standards.
Are you going joining the blue rinse brigade?
Never heard of them.
Quasimodo there mentions them in every second post, he licks his mates hole in all the others,
She’s not dead man shes very much alive and riding.
But the gubbermint are robbing us blind.
The one the Wexford hurler Jacob rode? What was her name again. A haunty scouse one. You’d have a wild time with her, but you’d not be bringing her home to meet the mother.
What ever became of him? Still doing the blues?
He was playing centre back for fullen gaels of manchester/newcastle/Scotland yesterday against Liverpool wolf tones, who, I was reliably informed last night, did their offaly jerseys proud by being the fattest gaa team the informant had ever seen.