I have a problem.
Secondary school, yada, bullying, yada yada, sexual interference, yada yada yada, completely fucked psychologically, whatever.

HOWEVER:

Recently, the guy who made my life a living hell got in touch on Arsebook. Couldn't believe he had the brass fucking neck. Asked him couple of questions: yup, it's the same cunt I've been looking for for 30 years. Why have I been looking for him? Not for hugs and kisses, you can be sure of that. Now, if he turns up having been bleached and put feet first through a bark chipper, they'll go through his recent contacts and I'm fucked.

Unless someone fancies combining a holiday in Marbella with a whack job. £25 and a bottle of bison grass vodka sound OK?
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Wed 13 May 2009, 23:57, 4 replies)

sounds..
..just like a guy I used to know. please tell me it isn't JB?
(LittleWhiteTreat, Thu 14 May 2009, 8:47, closed)

DONE.

(Fuckpig "That's not even a pound a midget.", Thu 14 May 2009, 13:45, closed)

When I said a whack job...
.. I meant whacking off into his paella. After all, I'm only offering £25.
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Thu 14 May 2009, 22:29, closed)

Oh God
You want me to whack the guy, off the guy, whack off the guy? 'Cos I'm straight, y'know. As long as it ain't Pauly Shore, otherwise you can whack me off right now!
(RVD420 has his world coming down on, Tue 19 May 2009, 10:49, closed)