If Rossi won't resign, I expect him to be photographed trudging through the countryside with wife, children and dog like disgraced MPs do.
#RossiGate
#RossiGate
Plagiarism? Flattery? Or just plain sad? | .Rossi refuses to admit he was a disgrace to humanity
- Thread starter Rado_N
- Start date
- Status
All @.Rossi threads should be deleted and he is made to start over.
don't forget the "sorry about the rent boys" look too.
And the Clarksonesque pseudo-apology: "I'm sorry if anyone was offended, but I'm not really sorry and I hope you're all offended."
surely he must have known that one day this would all come crashing down around his ears? he got greedy.
at the start it was "just copy enough to get promoted", then promotion came "i'll just find my feet with a few well thought out zingers and some clever musings, no one needs to know and i can stop any time i want to." then promotion went. slowly the ctrl+c consumed him, slowly it turned him from sentient being to mindless word regurgitater, from advanced human to cheap mimicking parrot.
his wife would pick up the kids from day care and return home after both her shifts at both her jobs, rossi would still be where she left him, sat at the desk in a pile of his own filth, scouring page after page of redcafe. he hadn't slept for days, suddenly theafonis seemed to make sense, he was some kind of football emissary, sent from the future to show us the true path of football foruming. "fecking clarkie is having that one, boyo." he shouted to himself before agreeing with himself. his wife sighed from the kitchen and carried on with making the tea, "beans on toast again" she thought silently to herself, this wasn't how it was supposed to be, she forced a smile for her two sweet girls and went back to her mindless stirring.
she'd leave him in a heartbeat if it wasn't from the kids, she came from a broken home, she couldn't put them through it all. she was dead behind the eyes though, he'd taken the spark from her, she was a shred of the woman she'd grown to be. he was supposed to support her as she got her acting career off the ground, she'd work part time and look after the children and then be the leading star on broadway at night as her loving family looked on. that was a long time ago now. serving fastfood and table waiting was a long way from the bright lights of soho. it wasn't meant to be like this.
"is daddy joining us, mummy?"
"no, he's busy working again."
a faint shout of "ho-ho, fecking clarkie has struck gold again, boyo!" crept into the kitchen.
"is clarkie the man making daddy do this, mummy?"
"i don't know any more, eat your beans."
"why do we always have beans and toast, mummy?, i went to sarah's house the other day and they had so much nice food. they all had nicer clothes too and her daddy came home from working abroad and brought a toy home from her before giving her an big kiss and cuddle and saying sorry for missing her dance recital but promising to be at the next one. it wasn't even her birthday and she didn't have to share it with jade, she just got it. why doesn't daddy kiss or cuddle me any more, mummy?"
"eat your beans, my sweet."
after they were done she made sure they brushed their teeth, bathed them, tucked them into bed, kissed both their foreheads and returned to her room, marking another day off the calendar, looking hard at the gun in her bedside table, before drifting off to sleep to the muffled cries of "clarkie, clarkie, we need to have that one, mate," seeping through the floor.
she came down the next morning and he was gone. she approached the desk to find the computer still displaying redcafe, how she hatd the sight of that site. the old monitor hummed as it normally did, the empty bags of crisps and onion skins littered the surface. she glanced at the grimy keyboard and noticed the ctrl, c and v keys missing. she looked on, puzzled and perplexed, "where has he gone and why are those keys missing?" her train of thought was broken by the sound of scurrying and a large shadow disappearing behind the sofa.
this would have shat her up at one point, but now the thought of a hell hound ripping her and her children to shreds was a peaceful one, it'd be an end to all their misery. she pulled the sofa back to find the adonis she once married shoving the grubby, missing keys in and out of his mouth and gurning at her, before letting or what could only be described as a sort of laugh and scurrying off on all fours to the back door and into the garden.
enough was enough, this could go on no longer. she picked up the phone, dialled 999 and reported a mad man in her house who's trying to hurt her and her children. she let out a blood curdling cry before hanging up. the sound of sirens was just minutes away, four cars and a van swept up the driveway as a startled rossi scampered up the nearest tree, hiding his special keys in his special hole.
the police burst into the house, clearing every room as they went, "everybody freeze! don't nobody move!" but each room was empty, they split and made their way upstairs and into the garden.
"chief, we've got something in the tree out here, we think it's he perp, come and take a look."
"just a minute, lewkowsky, i've got one more room to check."
as he opened the door nothing could prepare him from the sight of two pretty little girls and their mother laying in a pool of blood on the bed, the mothers eye's glistened more than they had done for seemingly a lifetime as the gun rested silently in her hand. "we've got an 1156, we're going to need an ambulance but i think it's too late." it was, they were already in a better place.
"nah you can't take only me, fecking clarkie is here too, get that fecker."
but yeah, he's hurting no one.
Great stuff @rimaldo not even going to google that to see where you stole it from.
I don't think there's been a single person who's said that they are offended. Rossi just put that in himself.
It's a bloody Internet forum and he's acting like he's been exposed in real life. He can't sleep wtf
The reaction is weirder than the copying posts. He takes Internet forums too seriously.
surely he must have known that one day this would all come crashing down around his ears? he got greedy.
at the start it was "just copy enough to get promoted", then promotion came "i'll just find my feet with a few well thought out zingers and some clever musings, no one needs to know and i can stop any time i want to." then promotion went. slowly the ctrl+c consumed him, slowly it turned him from sentient being to mindless word regurgitater, from advanced human to cheap mimicking parrot.
his wife would pick up the kids from day care and return home after both her shifts at both her jobs, rossi would still be where she left him, sat at the desk in a pile of his own filth, scouring page after page of redcafe. he hadn't slept for days, suddenly theafonis seemed to make sense, he was some kind of football emissary, sent from the future to show us the true path of football foruming. "fecking clarkie is having that one, boyo." he shouted to himself before agreeing with himself. his wife sighed from the kitchen and carried on with making the tea, "beans on toast again
she'd leave him in a heartbeat if it wasn't from the kids, she came from a broken home, she couldn't put them through it all. she was dead behind the eyes though, he'd taken the spark from her, she was a shred of the woman she'd grown to be. he was supposed to support her as she got her acting career off the ground, she'd work part time and look after the children and then be the leading star on broadway at night as her loving family looked on. that was a long time ago now. serving fastfood and table waiting was a long way from the bright lights of soho. it wasn't meant to be like this.
"is daddy joining us, mummy?"
"no, he's busy working again."
a faint shout of "ho-ho, fecking clarkie has struck gold again, boyo!" crept into the kitchen.
"is clarkie the man making daddy do this, mummy?"
"i don't know any more, eat your beans."
"why do we always have beans and toast, mummy?, i went to sarah's house the other day and they had so much nice food. they all had nicer clothes too and her daddy came home from working abroad and brought a toy home from her before giving her an big kiss and cuddle and saying sorry for missing her dance recital but promising to be at the next one. it wasn't even her birthday and she didn't have to share it with jade, she just got it. why doesn't daddy kiss or cuddle me any more, mummy?"
"eat your beans, my sweet."
after they were done she made sure they brushed their teeth, bathed them, tucked them into bed, kissed both their foreheads and returned to her room, marking another day off the calendar, looking hard at the gun in her bedside table, before drifting off to sleep to the muffled cries of "clarkie, clarkie, we need to have that one, mate," seeping through the floor.
she came down the next morning and he was gone. she approached the desk to find the computer still displaying redcafe, how she hatd the sight of that site. the old monitor hummed as it normally did, the empty bags of crisps and onion skins littered the surface. she glanced at the grimy keyboard and noticed the ctrl, c and v keys missing. she looked on, puzzled and perplexed, "where has he gone and why are those keys missing?" her train of thought was broken by the sound of scurrying and a large shadow disappearing behind the sofa.
this would have shat her up at one point, but now the thought of a hell hound ripping her and her children to shreds was a peaceful one, it'd be an end to all their misery. she pulled the sofa back to find the adonis she once married shoving the grubby, missing keys in and out of his mouth and gurning at her, before letting or what could only be described as a sort of laugh and scurrying off on all fours to the back door and into the garden.
enough was enough, this could go on no longer. she picked up the phone, dialled 999 and reported a mad man in her house who's trying to hurt her and her children. she let out a blood curdling cry before hanging up. the sound of sirens was just minutes away, four cars and a van swept up the driveway as a startled rossi scampered up the nearest tree, hiding his special keys in his special hole.
the police burst into the house, clearing every room as they went, "everybody freeze! don't nobody move!" but each room was empty, they split and made their way upstairs and into the garden.
"chief, we've got something in the tree out here, we think it's he perp, come and take a look."
"just a minute, lewkowsky, i've got one more room to check."
as he opened the door nothing could prepare him from the sight of two pretty little girls and their mother laying in a pool of blood on the bed, the mothers eye's glistened more than they had done for seemingly a lifetime as the gun rested silently in her hand. "we've got an 1156, we're going to need an ambulance but i think it's too late." it was, they were already in a better place.
"nah you can't take only me, fecking clarkie is here too, get that fecker."
but yeah, he's hurting no one.
@rimaldo amazing.
amazing.Jesus @rimaldo going in
Christ rimaldo
Rimaldo won the thread
.Rossi plz respond
.Rossi plz respond
I'd like to see all the other .Rossis come out and condemn this kind of behaviour to be honest.
@rimaldo brilliant
Genuine question - how different is this from repeating a witty remark or stealing a catchphrase (for want of a better word) that one of your mates said? Cos I've done that plenty of times and they've done it to me at least a few times. It does feel pretty different, perhaps just because of the volume of content, I'm just struggling to think exactly why.
only because they have no internet
surely he must have known that one day this would all come crashing down around his ears? he got greedy.
at the start it was "just copy enough to get promoted", then promotion came "i'll just find my feet with a few well thought out zingers and some clever musings, no one needs to know and i can stop any time i want to." then promotion went. slowly the ctrl+c consumed him, slowly it turned him from sentient being to mindless word regurgitater, from advanced human to cheap mimicking parrot.
his wife would pick up the kids from day care and return home after both her shifts at both her jobs, rossi would still be where she left him, sat at the desk in a pile of his own filth, scouring page after page of redcafe. he hadn't slept for days, suddenly theafonis seemed to make sense, he was some kind of football emissary, sent from the future to show us the true path of football foruming. "fecking clarkie is having that one, boyo." he shouted to himself before agreeing with himself. his wife sighed from the kitchen and carried on with making the tea, "beans on toast again
she'd leave him in a heartbeat if it wasn't from the kids, she came from a broken home, she couldn't put them through it all. she was dead behind the eyes though, he'd taken the spark from her, she was a shred of the woman she'd grown to be. he was supposed to support her as she got her acting career off the ground, she'd work part time and look after the children and then be the leading star on broadway at night as her loving family looked on. that was a long time ago now. serving fastfood and table waiting was a long way from the bright lights of soho. it wasn't meant to be like this.
"is daddy joining us, mummy?"
"no, he's busy working again."
a faint shout of "ho-ho, fecking clarkie has struck gold again, boyo!" crept into the kitchen.
"is clarkie the man making daddy do this, mummy?"
"i don't know any more, eat your beans."
"why do we always have beans and toast, mummy?, i went to sarah's house the other day and they had so much nice food. they all had nicer clothes too and her daddy came home from working abroad and brought a toy home from her before giving her an big kiss and cuddle and saying sorry for missing her dance recital but promising to be at the next one. it wasn't even her birthday and she didn't have to share it with jade, she just got it. why doesn't daddy kiss or cuddle me any more, mummy?"
"eat your beans, my sweet."
after they were done she made sure they brushed their teeth, bathed them, tucked them into bed, kissed both their foreheads and returned to her room, marking another day off the calendar, looking hard at the gun in her bedside table, before drifting off to sleep to the muffled cries of "clarkie, clarkie, we need to have that one, mate," seeping through the floor.
she came down the next morning and he was gone. she approached the desk to find the computer still displaying redcafe, how she hatd the sight of that site. the old monitor hummed as it normally did, the empty bags of crisps and onion skins littered the surface. she glanced at the grimy keyboard and noticed the ctrl, c and v keys missing. she looked on, puzzled and perplexed, "where has he gone and why are those keys missing?" her train of thought was broken by the sound of scurrying and a large shadow disappearing behind the sofa.
this would have shat her up at one point, but now the thought of a hell hound ripping her and her children to shreds was a peaceful one, it'd be an end to all their misery. she pulled the sofa back to find the adonis she once married shoving the grubby, missing keys in and out of his mouth and gurning at her, before letting or what could only be described as a sort of laugh and scurrying off on all fours to the back door and into the garden.
enough was enough, this could go on no longer. she picked up the phone, dialled 999 and reported a mad man in her house who's trying to hurt her and her children. she let out a blood curdling cry before hanging up. the sound of sirens was just minutes away, four cars and a van swept up the driveway as a startled rossi scampered up the nearest tree, hiding his special keys in his special hole.
the police burst into the house, clearing every room as they went, "everybody freeze! don't nobody move!" but each room was empty, they split and made their way upstairs and into the garden.
"chief, we've got something in the tree out here, we think it's he perp, come and take a look."
"just a minute, lewkowsky, i've got one more room to check."
as he opened the door nothing could prepare him from the sight of two pretty little girls and their mother laying in a pool of blood on the bed, the mothers eye's glistened more than they had done for seemingly a lifetime as the gun rested silently in her hand. "we've got an 1156, we're going to need an ambulance but i think it's too late." it was, they were already in a better place.
"nah you can't take only me, fecking clarkie is here too, get that fecker."
but yeah, he's hurting no one.
Rossi sounds Gollum!
Poty for Rimaldo.surely he must have known that one day this would all come crashing down around his ears? he got greedy.
at the start it was "just copy enough to get promoted", then promotion came "i'll just find my feet with a few well thought out zingers and some clever musings, no one needs to know and i can stop any time i want to." then promotion went. slowly the ctrl+c consumed him, slowly it turned him from sentient being to mindless word regurgitater, from advanced human to cheap mimicking parrot.
his wife would pick up the kids from day care and return home after both her shifts at both her jobs, rossi would still be where she left him, sat at the desk in a pile of his own filth, scouring page after page of redcafe. he hadn't slept for days, suddenly theafonis seemed to make sense, he was some kind of football emissary, sent from the future to show us the true path of football foruming. "fecking clarkie is having that one, boyo." he shouted to himself before agreeing with himself. his wife sighed from the kitchen and carried on with making the tea, "beans on toast again
she'd leave him in a heartbeat if it wasn't from the kids, she came from a broken home, she couldn't put them through it all. she was dead behind the eyes though, he'd taken the spark from her, she was a shred of the woman she'd grown to be. he was supposed to support her as she got her acting career off the ground, she'd work part time and look after the children and then be the leading star on broadway at night as her loving family looked on. that was a long time ago now. serving fastfood and table waiting was a long way from the bright lights of soho. it wasn't meant to be like this.
"is daddy joining us, mummy?"
"no, he's busy working again."
a faint shout of "ho-ho, fecking clarkie has struck gold again, boyo!" crept into the kitchen.
"is clarkie the man making daddy do this, mummy?"
"i don't know any more, eat your beans."
"why do we always have beans and toast, mummy?, i went to sarah's house the other day and they had so much nice food. they all had nicer clothes too and her daddy came home from working abroad and brought a toy home from her before giving her an big kiss and cuddle and saying sorry for missing her dance recital but promising to be at the next one. it wasn't even her birthday and she didn't have to share it with jade, she just got it. why doesn't daddy kiss or cuddle me any more, mummy?"
"eat your beans, my sweet."
after they were done she made sure they brushed their teeth, bathed them, tucked them into bed, kissed both their foreheads and returned to her room, marking another day off the calendar, looking hard at the gun in her bedside table, before drifting off to sleep to the muffled cries of "clarkie, clarkie, we need to have that one, mate," seeping through the floor.
she came down the next morning and he was gone. she approached the desk to find the computer still displaying redcafe, how she hatd the sight of that site. the old monitor hummed as it normally did, the empty bags of crisps and onion skins littered the surface. she glanced at the grimy keyboard and noticed the ctrl, c and v keys missing. she looked on, puzzled and perplexed, "where has he gone and why are those keys missing?" her train of thought was broken by the sound of scurrying and a large shadow disappearing behind the sofa.
this would have shat her up at one point, but now the thought of a hell hound ripping her and her children to shreds was a peaceful one, it'd be an end to all their misery. she pulled the sofa back to find the adonis she once married shoving the grubby, missing keys in and out of his mouth and gurning at her, before letting or what could only be described as a sort of laugh and scurrying off on all fours to the back door and into the garden.
enough was enough, this could go on no longer. she picked up the phone, dialled 999 and reported a mad man in her house who's trying to hurt her and her children. she let out a blood curdling cry before hanging up. the sound of sirens was just minutes away, four cars and a van swept up the driveway as a startled rossi scampered up the nearest tree, hiding his special keys in his special hole.
the police burst into the house, clearing every room as they went, "everybody freeze! don't nobody move!" but each room was empty, they split and made their way upstairs and into the garden.
"chief, we've got something in the tree out here, we think it's he perp, come and take a look."
"just a minute, lewkowsky, i've got one more room to check."
as he opened the door nothing could prepare him from the sight of two pretty little girls and their mother laying in a pool of blood on the bed, the mothers eye's glistened more than they had done for seemingly a lifetime as the gun rested silently in her hand. "we've got an 1156, we're going to need an ambulance but i think it's too late." it was, they were already in a better place.
"nah you can't take only me, fecking clarkie is here too, get that fecker."
but yeah, he's hurting no one.
Because it's mostly been verbatim. When you quote someone you should attribute it. Etiquette etc.
I think everyone borrows a phrase or a punch line, which is probably why nobody is particularly upset by this. But there is a line somewhere in between "passing on" a good joke, a magnificent turn of phrase or similar, and just shameless ad verbum copying and pasting, which is clearly what's been exposed here.
As with most things on the Caf though, it's mostly about the laughs
10/10 rimmy, would read again.
AgreedI think everyone borrows a phrase or a punch line, which is probably why nobody is particularly upset by this. But there is a line somewhere in between "passing on" a good joke, a magnificent turn of phrase or similar, and just shameless ad verbum copying and pasting, which is clearly what's been exposed here.
As with most things on the Caf though, it's mostly about the laughs
I don't think Rossi wants to cooperate in our fun.
surely he must have known that one day this would all come crashing down around his ears? he got greedy.
at the start it was "just copy enough to get promoted", then promotion came "i'll just find my feet with a few well thought out zingers and some clever musings, no one needs to know and i can stop any time i want to." then promotion went. slowly the ctrl+c consumed him, slowly it turned him from sentient being to mindless word regurgitater, from advanced human to cheap mimicking parrot.
his wife would pick up the kids from day care and return home after both her shifts at both her jobs, rossi would still be where she left him, sat at the desk in a pile of his own filth, scouring page after page of redcafe. he hadn't slept for days, suddenly theafonis seemed to make sense, he was some kind of football emissary, sent from the future to show us the true path of football foruming. "fecking clarkie is having that one, boyo." he shouted to himself before agreeing with himself. his wife sighed from the kitchen and carried on with making the tea, "beans on toast again
she'd leave him in a heartbeat if it wasn't from the kids, she came from a broken home, she couldn't put them through it all. she was dead behind the eyes though, he'd taken the spark from her, she was a shred of the woman she'd grown to be. he was supposed to support her as she got her acting career off the ground, she'd work part time and look after the children and then be the leading star on broadway at night as her loving family looked on. that was a long time ago now. serving fastfood and table waiting was a long way from the bright lights of soho. it wasn't meant to be like this.
"is daddy joining us, mummy?"
"no, he's busy working again."
a faint shout of "ho-ho, fecking clarkie has struck gold again, boyo!" crept into the kitchen.
"is clarkie the man making daddy do this, mummy?"
"i don't know any more, eat your beans."
"why do we always have beans and toast, mummy?, i went to sarah's house the other day and they had so much nice food. they all had nicer clothes too and her daddy came home from working abroad and brought a toy home from her before giving her an big kiss and cuddle and saying sorry for missing her dance recital but promising to be at the next one. it wasn't even her birthday and she didn't have to share it with jade, she just got it. why doesn't daddy kiss or cuddle me any more, mummy?"
"eat your beans, my sweet."
after they were done she made sure they brushed their teeth, bathed them, tucked them into bed, kissed both their foreheads and returned to her room, marking another day off the calendar, looking hard at the gun in her bedside table, before drifting off to sleep to the muffled cries of "clarkie, clarkie, we need to have that one, mate," seeping through the floor.
she came down the next morning and he was gone. she approached the desk to find the computer still displaying redcafe, how she hatd the sight of that site. the old monitor hummed as it normally did, the empty bags of crisps and onion skins littered the surface. she glanced at the grimy keyboard and noticed the ctrl, c and v keys missing. she looked on, puzzled and perplexed, "where has he gone and why are those keys missing?" her train of thought was broken by the sound of scurrying and a large shadow disappearing behind the sofa.
this would have shat her up at one point, but now the thought of a hell hound ripping her and her children to shreds was a peaceful one, it'd be an end to all their misery. she pulled the sofa back to find the adonis she once married shoving the grubby, missing keys in and out of his mouth and gurning at her, before letting or what could only be described as a sort of laugh and scurrying off on all fours to the back door and into the garden.
enough was enough, this could go on no longer. she picked up the phone, dialled 999 and reported a mad man in her house who's trying to hurt her and her children. she let out a blood curdling cry before hanging up. the sound of sirens was just minutes away, four cars and a van swept up the driveway as a startled rossi scampered up the nearest tree, hiding his special keys in his special hole.
the police burst into the house, clearing every room as they went, "everybody freeze! don't nobody move!" but each room was empty, they split and made their way upstairs and into the garden.
"chief, we've got something in the tree out here, we think it's he perp, come and take a look."
"just a minute, lewkowsky, i've got one more room to check."
as he opened the door nothing could prepare him from the sight of two pretty little girls and their mother laying in a pool of blood on the bed, the mothers eye's glistened more than they had done for seemingly a lifetime as the gun rested silently in her hand. "we've got an 1156, we're going to need an ambulance but i think it's too late." it was, they were already in a better place.
"nah you can't take only me, fecking clarkie is here too, get that fecker."
but yeah, he's hurting no one.
FFSsurely he must have known that one day this would all come crashing down around his ears? he got greedy.
at the start it was "just copy enough to get promoted", then promotion came "i'll just find my feet with a few well thought out zingers and some clever musings, no one needs to know and i can stop any time i want to." then promotion went. slowly the ctrl+c consumed him, slowly it turned him from sentient being to mindless word regurgitater, from advanced human to cheap mimicking parrot.
his wife would pick up the kids from day care and return home after both her shifts at both her jobs, rossi would still be where she left him, sat at the desk in a pile of his own filth, scouring page after page of redcafe. he hadn't slept for days, suddenly theafonis seemed to make sense, he was some kind of football emissary, sent from the future to show us the true path of football foruming. "fecking clarkie is having that one, boyo." he shouted to himself before agreeing with himself. his wife sighed from the kitchen and carried on with making the tea, "beans on toast again
she'd leave him in a heartbeat if it wasn't from the kids, she came from a broken home, she couldn't put them through it all. she was dead behind the eyes though, he'd taken the spark from her, she was a shred of the woman she'd grown to be. he was supposed to support her as she got her acting career off the ground, she'd work part time and look after the children and then be the leading star on broadway at night as her loving family looked on. that was a long time ago now. serving fastfood and table waiting was a long way from the bright lights of soho. it wasn't meant to be like this.
"is daddy joining us, mummy?"
"no, he's busy working again."
a faint shout of "ho-ho, fecking clarkie has struck gold again, boyo!" crept into the kitchen.
"is clarkie the man making daddy do this, mummy?"
"i don't know any more, eat your beans."
"why do we always have beans and toast, mummy?, i went to sarah's house the other day and they had so much nice food. they all had nicer clothes too and her daddy came home from working abroad and brought a toy home from her before giving her an big kiss and cuddle and saying sorry for missing her dance recital but promising to be at the next one. it wasn't even her birthday and she didn't have to share it with jade, she just got it. why doesn't daddy kiss or cuddle me any more, mummy?"
"eat your beans, my sweet."
after they were done she made sure they brushed their teeth, bathed them, tucked them into bed, kissed both their foreheads and returned to her room, marking another day off the calendar, looking hard at the gun in her bedside table, before drifting off to sleep to the muffled cries of "clarkie, clarkie, we need to have that one, mate," seeping through the floor.
she came down the next morning and he was gone. she approached the desk to find the computer still displaying redcafe, how she hatd the sight of that site. the old monitor hummed as it normally did, the empty bags of crisps and onion skins littered the surface. she glanced at the grimy keyboard and noticed the ctrl, c and v keys missing. she looked on, puzzled and perplexed, "where has he gone and why are those keys missing?" her train of thought was broken by the sound of scurrying and a large shadow disappearing behind the sofa.
this would have shat her up at one point, but now the thought of a hell hound ripping her and her children to shreds was a peaceful one, it'd be an end to all their misery. she pulled the sofa back to find the adonis she once married shoving the grubby, missing keys in and out of his mouth and gurning at her, before letting or what could only be described as a sort of laugh and scurrying off on all fours to the back door and into the garden.
enough was enough, this could go on no longer. she picked up the phone, dialled 999 and reported a mad man in her house who's trying to hurt her and her children. she let out a blood curdling cry before hanging up. the sound of sirens was just minutes away, four cars and a van swept up the driveway as a startled rossi scampered up the nearest tree, hiding his special keys in his special hole.
the police burst into the house, clearing every room as they went, "everybody freeze! don't nobody move!" but each room was empty, they split and made their way upstairs and into the garden.
"chief, we've got something in the tree out here, we think it's he perp, come and take a look."
"just a minute, lewkowsky, i've got one more room to check."
as he opened the door nothing could prepare him from the sight of two pretty little girls and their mother laying in a pool of blood on the bed, the mothers eye's glistened more than they had done for seemingly a lifetime as the gun rested silently in her hand. "we've got an 1156, we're going to need an ambulance but i think it's too late." it was, they were already in a better place.
"nah you can't take only me, fecking clarkie is here too, get that fecker."
but yeah, he's hurting no one.
Tbh, there could be a lot of people doing this sort of thing who aren't even members on here. It's a public forum aside from the general and from what we've seen so far he's mainly copied posts from the football forum and nothing from the general has been nothing more small talk. He's not done any damage.
Really starting to feel this thread has run its course now. A joke is a joke but quite often people think that the barrier of a computer monitor means their words have less impact.
There's far too many people trying to make the same old jokes now in attempts to get a few smilies and a funny man rep.
There's far too many people trying to make the same old jokes now in attempts to get a few smilies and a funny man rep.
You are taking this far too seriously.
No one is saying he has, people are just saying it's weird and funny, which it is.
To be honest this is quite a sensible post.
Where did you find it?
Or not? You need to chill out man, it's just a joke.
What benefit is there to this thread when someone calls him sad/strange/weird/*add personal comment* for the tenth time? It's going beyond the point of originality for some people.
I think sometimes people don't take enough responsibility for the things they post is all.
Or none at all, when it's something they didn't write themselves.
It's only a Internet forum, you need to take it easy
As has been said in a different conversation, it's you that belongs to the masses, that have placed internet personas where it is today. Joke posts that anyone could think of from the witty to the downright awful. It's people like you that are killing innovation in forum posts by copying from a few 'big names' and not quoting the little guy, or thinking them up yourself. It's people like you that are killing redcafe, because you gladly spend your hard earned time revamping trash and spouting shit that someone else has already spouted. It's people like you that listen to Ed Sheeran, and any other artists who copy other peoples work and fine tune it to the masses and the mainstream rather than supporting new music ideas, new music talent. I'd be glad if the likes of you @.Rossi were not part of the Redcafe family, because we don't need you. You need us.
The funny thing now is that you copy and paste these rehashed posts over and over again and with worse performance. Enjoy yourself!
The funny thing now is that you copy and paste these rehashed posts over and over again and with worse performance. Enjoy yourself!
That sounds very weaste like...
- Status