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You fucking people have no concept of how fucking stupid you are. You really think anything you write about here is important later on? You're going to look back on this shite and laugh yourself stupider. Seriously. You lot have no concept of how ridiculous you all fucking sound. It's like a hundred fucking bees buzzing in my fucking ear.

So.

Atkinson brought his little pod person to practise today. What the fuck, mate? Seriously, just what the fuck?! Like we need that little turd of a distraction out on the pitch? What the fuck is up with people and their fucking spawn? JESUS CHRIST!

Anyway -- this little shit is sitting on the pitch down by the god-damn goal... Wouldn't have been any big deal except for the fact that little shit kept heckling me! "FLEENT! FLEEENT! MEESTER FLEENT! WATCH WHAT YOU'RE DOING! YOU MIGHT HURT YOURSELF!"

Didn't he teach his little shit to speak proper fucking English when SPOKEN to or what?? Never mind the god-damn fact that his mum is french, but whatever. Doesn't fucking matter. It's FLINT not FLEENT.

So then... THEN. Banks fucking kicks the ball, I shit you not, right over the goal post. It knocks the little dingleberry out. Completely with cartoon birdies and X's over his eyes. I don't think I've laughed so hard in my life. I fucking fell on my arse I was laughing so god-damn hard! He actually got a CONCUSSION. A fucking concussion! From a football! HAHAHAHAHAHA. Atkinson didn't think it was all that funny and made me run 100 laps around the pitch, but whatever. I was going to do 50 anyway.

I think he mighta lectured me about children's safety and blah blah blah -- I wasn't fucking paying attention. He brought his little crotch dropping onto a fucking FOOTBALL pitch. It's not my fucking fault Banks kicked the fucking ball at his little brat.

Ahh, breeders and their fucking offspring. Makes me want a fucking vaginal dropping of my own. Brings a tear to my eye. No fucking joke.