Right

So, readers, we're about to embark on a beautiful journey of terrible writing style and fuck all fun. I mean, some people may be questioning why I am already confident enough to address you all in a plural manner, well just wait around and have a read of my dreary, dull but eclectic blog and find out why. You'll soon come to the same conclusion as every other person that I force my personality onto, this being that I'm a cunt. In saying that, I'm quite a playful cunt. I'm all about being as humanly harsh and blunt to people with lower self esteems than my own. You see, this makes me happy. But no, obviously I'm joking. Well, slightly. Anyways, I'm sure you are already tuning out of this drivel, so I'll spice things up with a little insight into how my absolute obsession with the NFL came about, because that is about all you'll be hearing on from me, and maybe some other uninteresting shit like that. ONWARDS.

Right, so being the fucking insomniac night owl that I am, I just so happened across American Football early one cold, wet September morning. It was around three, and I was hitting my peak alertness, when I was trawling through the utter wank that gets broadcast during this dire time. I saw that channel four was showing 'American Football', and I can remember the feeling like it was just yesterday, it was a 'fuck it, what else do I have' click of the slightly greasy enter button on my fucked, sellotaped up Virgin remote. What was to grace my eyes was the same boring, complicated, shit sport that I had tried and failed to watch on several previous occasions. However, something happened. And I had to sit back and ask myself ''Who is this big black man, with the chrome visor, sprinting around, past and over other big black men?!''. Making each one miss with elegance and sexy footwork. I had to know. So I kept watching, and soon learned that this magician of the gridiron (Colloquial term that me and the boizzzzz on the NFL forums like to use whilst referring to the pitch on which the game takes place) was none other than Philadelphia Eagle's back up quarterback Mick Vick. The play was over and the Eagles' Vick had scored a touchdown. I persevered with the match for about another twenty minutes before wondering off, for what I can only imagine was a lustful, energetic five minutes with my girlfriend at the time, the right fist. Anyways, that is where it all began.

To the troopers that have made it to the end of this painfully awkward and mind-numbingly shit first effort, I salute you. I'll be back with more soon I'd imagine, and there is no need to cringe at that thought. I know you all fucking loved it really. Not sure how to progress this, but I will try my best to leave you all as soppingly wet for more as I have with this eloquently presented edition.

I would say something shit like ''Much love'' or ''Peace out'', but I'm not a cunt. I'll just leave you all on a high note, with some kind of irrelevant tip on how to try and replicate me. Here gos..

Tip 1. Be a cunt.

Night.