Seanachai

Apparently duty is silent, and the eggs and bacon go begging, you jarhead bugger! Man, I think I can almost see?

I dunno...I can hold almost as much eggs and pork products as I can beer and rum. Have you ever seen a picture of my short, stout, but manly form?

GET ME MY GODDAMN BREAKFAST, YOU PONCING LACKWIT! Man. Poisoning would be preferable to this lack of service...

ROIGHT! WHY THE HELL AM I HERE TALKING TO MYSELF?! Slacker scum...

Goddamn Berli, anyways! Am I supposed to make you all feel small, unimportant and shiftless by myself? Man, this whole Peng Challenge Thread thing... It takes it right out of a man. And so, Peng is back. With never a nod to the fact that the bastard left me capering rather like an old fool without him... Peng, my lad. These people need the whip, and a strong wrist behind it. Have you read the stupid ****e they come up with on their own? Even the Justicar is starting to sound like an Oprah re-run.

What time is it in Ohio? Where's my bloody large, thuggish henchman, Boo? I'm a tired, visually impaired, mentally disoriented old man. I need my thuggish henchman. Where's my Radley? My back is bent, my hair is grey... Boo! Goddamn you, Boo! Fetch me my three basted eggs, ham slice, two slices of rye toast, american fries, half a grapefruit, large orange juice and sundries, you bastard! I'm a tired, sad, broken down old man! Do you expect me to mock, deride, and belittle this pile of feck-sticks without my breakfast? Oh, woe is me, woe is me! I can't be having with this, at my age.

Bah! You'll get to scavenge when your masters take the calipers off. All this unseemly begging after scraps. If I had a pet like you, I'd have the bugger put down.

Ah, the sad songs. Sometimes I sit and listen to the sad songs, long past any point where anything other than sorrow can be achieved. And then I weep. I like to think that tears cleanse. Sometimes I picture my soul as the rather tatty, soiled piece of ****e that it is hung from the branches of an oak. And then tears come down in one of those showers you sometimes get from a blue sky, with big, dark clouds going by on their way from here to there. And not washing it clean, or anything, but...making it a little less awful. A bit more fresh. Re-instilling a sense of wonder, and joy, despite sorrow. That's the point of tears, if you will. Funny thing is, I shed them mainly amongst you lot. Don't ever mention them to my family. Too near and hard for friends here in town, too. All that uncomfortable silence, or hands simply reaching out to grasp yours, and earnest looks. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?! So, when I cry, I come here. To the arse-end of the fecking Universe. To the biggest bunch of tossers that the gods ever saw fit to give an opposable thumb. To the Peng Challenge Thread. It cheers me, somehow, to know that you're all out there. And it brings me a sort of peace. So you've got that going for you. I should be doing something, about now. Perhaps cursing the Aussies. Or bowing to the Ladies of the 'Pool. Or kicking the snot out of fools. Someone remind me. Why am I here?

I've occasionally played 'console' games. They do not interest me. In fact, I think they're crap. Anyone who brings up 'console' games in the same article with Mac or PC games, and equates them, does not merit my attention. If the market goes that direction, they will do so without my money. Maybe I've missed them, but all console games strike me as just a glorified version of side-scrolling and/or arcade games from earlier times. I can't see something with the complexity of CM ever being done as a console game. So feck 'em.

Nidan, that miserable bugger, has achieved a Minor Victory over me. It was an entire bloodbath. I should have scouted, first.

Probably my greatest achievement, although all unintended, was the elevation of Bauhaus as the World's premier degenerate...

Well, it may just be the disorienting effect of my new specs, or it may be the half-litre of rum talking, but I have to say that, despite the fact that the Aussies are clearly the most loathsome people that God ever made (outside a list that I will provide, via email, if requested), I have to say that the buggers always do seem to have a pretty good sense of humour. Well, except for Noba, perhaps. Bugger seems a bit dour and bitter, sometimes. Is he from a part of Australia that was settled by Calvinists, or somefink? Can't remember the last time he joined in a jolly singsong.

Gie us a hug, you Aussie bastard!

Ooooooooooo-klaHomo Where wind goes whistling up your arse!

Chri—er...( nods to Bauhaus)...Tarnation! I think it must be the bathtub. I certainly hope so. Given the range I'm seeing from side to side, it better be, or I'm going to be scrubbing the floor for days to come.

I'm wearing my new 'progressive' lens glasses that I just picked up this afternoon. Basically, trifocals. I'd caper and dance to a jolly singsong, but every time I walk across the room to go to the bathroom I end up falling into the bookcase and knocking over the dining room table. And the gods know what I've been pissing into. It kind of looks like the toilet, but it's so hideously distorted that it might be the sink, bathtub or dresser. My friend keeps saying 'give yourself some time to adjust to them'. Well, driving isn't bad, and sitting very still looking at the computer screen basically works. But I'm probably going to have to get a 'seeing eye shopper' to help me get groceries and such. Stores are a nightmarish blur of light, colour and disorientation. Fortunately, if I sit very still and don't move my head around much, I can thoroughly enjoy my newly arrived copy of 'Serenity'. Dalem, you poison toad! Return my DVDs of 'Firefly'!

Now you've done it. He'll spin his head completely around, laugh like a madman and chant 'That's one worse than the Devil!'

As I thought. None of you stupid gits actually read my posts all the way through, do you?

Well there was the Boer War, or maybe the Falklands would be more to your liking? Vietnam maybe? Korea? There's many to choose from. Perhaps too many? </font>

Oh, nice. I sit here, on this mountain top, trying to look like a bloody intellectual aesthete, and you try to make points on the fact that you haven't had a turn in donkey's years. The next lot of giggling, 16 year old slurpy drinking baggages that show up here, I'm sending over to you, so that you can tell them about my heroic prose and awesome grasp of reality. taps foot impatiently Shouldn't you be salaaming and fetching me something cool and interesting to drink, you pillock? Your turn is sent. What makes it delicious is that all I had to do was watch the movie. The whole thing required absolutely nothing from me. Rather like most of the turns where I watch you blunder through whatever you think it is you're doing.

Jazyus Christ! Is it Friday, or Saturday? Oh dear Not-My-Bloody-Saviour on a half-shell, it's Sunday! Rune! You evil pile of pigs droppings! HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY! SAY IT WITH ME NOW! WHO DO WE HATE? RUNE! WHY DO WE HATE HIM? BECAUSE HE'S RUNE! WHEN SHALL WE HATE HIM NEXT?! Well, tomorrow works for me. Anyone have a conflict?

That would be me. Now keep your bloody low-cut blouse on, ya' frowzy whoore. Or I'll have you bending over and grinning at the climax of it!

And myself. Who never sleeps, whilst evil lurks among mankind. It annoys me that even after the crowd thins out, I have a hell of a time finding it...

As eloquent as most of your neo-Con media pimps, as usual. Perhaps you ought to have a bit of a lie-down, lad.

Get this down your pie hole! </font>