Oh, please...I'm not frightened of sawed-off little ****s like you and
your motorbike gang-bangers. You're no Johnny Strabler, and your gang of
motorbikers aren't the Black Rebels. You're just little **** tosk.
Whose chosen moniker comes from a sci-fi fantasy. He's too afraid to
dress up like those Trekies you see on the news so he puts a vinyl
suit on a putts around a mud rink pretending he's riding in his space
pod.
Yeah, and what's wrong with that? BTW, plonk
--
OH, I could do the 105 footer, but I would hate to waste the last few
seconds of my life with my eyes closed, screaming like a little
girl...
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