Right, I say, you are one frivolously cheeky kunt mate, I daresay I would handily best you in a fisticuffs, I promise on the Queen Mother's life. And I am certain you are frightened, you trifling swine, imploring your comrades to ring me up on the telly, declaring that we shant engage in bare-knuckled combat, because you are an imposing mongrel of renowned size. It is hard to contain my audible laughter. I do say, mate, it is deplorable, indeed, truly calamitous, and it ably demonstrates what an anxious, miniature lad of questionable masculinity you are. And what is this bullocks your chums are sending me, about a web-site dedicated to the betterment of male muscular fitness? Good lord, sir, is this your choice arena to let your eyes linger upon those of the male gender? You insignificant, petty homosexual, ring me if you possess testicular fortitude, you abominable fiend, and see if you can rise to the occasion, nancy-boy.

(cont) When you wake up after being operated on, wondering what ticking time bomb is in your chest waiting to go off. You'll recover fully from your heart surgery. And when you walk out the front door of the hospital to go home I'll run you over with my ****ing car out of no where and kill you. I just want you to know how easily I could ****ing destroy your pathetic excuse of a life, but how I'd rather go to a great ****ing length to make sure your last remaining days are spent in a living, breathing ****ing hell. It's too late to save yourself, but don't bother committing suicide either... I'll ****ing resuscitate you and kill you again myself you ♥♥♥♥♥-faced phaggot. Welcome to hell, population: you

I don't give a **** who you are or where you live. You can count on me to be there to bring your ****ing life to a hellish end. I'll put you in so much ****ing pain that it'll make Jesus being nailed to a cross in the desert look like a ****ing back massage on a tropical island. I don't give a **** how many reps you have or how tough you are IRL, how well you can fight, or how many ****ing guns you own to protect yourself. I'll ****ing show up at your house when you aren't home. I'll turn all the lights on in your house, leave all the water running, open your fridge door and not close it, and turn your gas stove burners on and let them waste gas. You're going to start stressing the **** out, your blood pressure will triple, and you'll have a ****ing heart attack. You'll go to the hospital for a heart operation, and the last thing you'll see when you're being put under in the operating room is me hovering above you, dressed like a doctor. (cont)

Don't say another ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ word. Up until now, I've been polite. If you say anything else - word one - I will kill myself. And when my tainted spirit finds its destination, I will topple the master of that dark place. From my black throne, I will lash together a machine of bone and blood, and fueled by my hatred for you this fear engine will bore a hole between this world and that one. When it begins, you will hear the sound of children screaming - as though from a great distance. A smoking orb of nothing will grow above your bed, and from it will emerge a thousand starving crows. As I slip through the widening maw in my new form, you will catch only a glimpse of my radiance before you are incinerated. Then, as tears of bubbling pitch stream down my face, my dark work will begin. I will open one of my six mouths, and I will sing the song that ends the Earth

obligatory coooobie