wot the fok did ye just say 2 me m8? i dropped out of newcastle primary skool im the sickest bloke ull ever meet & ive nicked 300 candy bars from tha corner store. im trained in street fitin’ & im the strongest foker in tha entire newcastle gym. yer nothin to me but a cheeky lil richardhead w/ a hot mum & fake bling. ill waste u and smash a fokin bottle oer yer head bruv, i swer 2 christ. ya think u can fokin run ya gabber at me whilst sittin on yer arse behind a lil screen? think again wanka. im callin me homeboys rite now preparin for a proper rumble. tha rumble thatll make ur nan sore jus hearin about it. yer a waste bruv. my homeboys be all over tha place & ill beat ya to a proper fokin pulp with me fists wanka. if i aint satisfied w/ that ill borrow me m8s cricket paddle & see if that gets u the fok out o’ newcastle ya daft kunt. if ye had seen this bloody fokin mess commin ye might a’ kept ya gabber from runnin. but it seems yer a stewpid lil twat, innit? ima stuffe fury & ull drown in it m8. ur in proper mess ya knobhead.
