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 ova 300 chocolate globbernaughts frum tha corner shop. im trained in street fitin' & im the strongest foker in tha entire newcastle gym. yer nothin to m

e but a cheeky lil bellend w/ a fit mum & fakebling. 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 scrap. A roomble thatll make ur nan sore jus hearin about it. yer a waste bruv. me crew 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' newcastl

e ya daft kunt. if ye had seen this bloody fokin mess commin ye might a' kept ya gabber from runnin. but it seems yea stupid lil twat, innit? ima shite fury & ull drown in it m8. ur ina proper mess knob.