My dear, sweet WOOLCOCK, you have came the fuck in to our den of debauchery and sin and now you shall fuck the fuck off, you are aware that, since Cal is as much use as a marzipan dildo this is essentially one sheep raping prick with a tiny dick versus two alcoholic degenerate Scotsmen, yes?
Your fighting skills shall look like a sweaty octopus trying to unhook a bra whilst me and Andy? We live by the mantra of he who fucks wins. So get yourself in shape, bring your absolute best and maybe, just maybe, we won't take you to the halal butchers
(Also don't joke about Viva like that man, he could be watching, don't want that mental fuckhead doing what he did to ASK HIM unto me)
A sheep raping prick with a tiny dick? We are through the looking glass now folks, fuck me!
Your threats strike me as being as intimidating as a Jane Austin novel. Allow me to pop a jaunty little bonnet on your purview and ram it up your shitter with a lubricated horse cock!
You might be a big deal over in Paisely, where your ability to drink unholy amounts of alcohol ensures you're not booted to Edinburgh in shame to socialise with the other trumpet playing stuck up posh cunts who think a bitter is a Man City fan. On here though, you're nothing. You know what you look like? A squeezed dick. You got a big blue vein running up your head all the way to the temple. See, that's where I'd put the bullet. Only I'd have to stand back 'cause you look like a squirter.
As for Andy, I hope his blog gets done for libel and he gets nobbed in prison by men!
As for Viva, you're clearly his little Scottish bitch and you don't even know it. Bet if I found you tonight, you'd be down on all fours, him hanging out the back of you. fucking love you really dear