Was that all your own work that last move st d.? well done! that was very good for you, (and like rewarding a two year old when potty training, extra praise even when it's a pile of shite) you are good little boy aren't you? yes you are, and as a reward have one of my shiney blue tokens. And while I go to the bog and give birth to your twin... Covent Garden yet another magenta station.

Inkers] Lay off the toilet humour, you're not a child are you? Well, maybe in some respects, but I'm not going that low. Oh, and find some punctuation will you? I'm sure Rensdorf'll lend you some, he can throw them down from his high horse. Oh, and "st" dogmael? Angel. Snard at you!

For the sake of our Lord the Christ, why do I bother even as much as I do?

rab] I have been wondering that for years.

Thus we see how the feeble intellects of lesser beings wander mumbling into the fog, forgetting, if they ever knew, why they came here, and oblivious to the opportunities around them. But soon their opportunities will run out and they will be heard no more. St. John's Wood. [st d] Truly, you have outdone yourself in incompetence with this village-idiot play of Dollis Hill. Consider the counter-strick running along the Metropolitan line, consider the LV, consider almost anything and you will see, if your education has not been entirely wasted, that there is neither the possibility of a loop, nor any of the other seven possible reasons to play at Dollis Hill.

Dollis Hill F*ck you, st d, for looping, and f*ck you, Rensdorf, for ignoring the inevitable loop and making it twice as binding for the rest of us. Tw*t.

[penelope] On second thoughts, a single ostrich feather, strategically placed. You may use it to write out ten thousand times the Maelberg-Venneling classification theorem.

Well, f*ck you all as I've got a move that'll get on your f*cking nerves, and there's nothing at all you can f*cking do about it. Dollis Hell

[GIII] Well that helps. Thanks a lot. Enjoying this?

Reading this unmitigated shite reminds me of the story that a thousand monkeys, given infinite time, will eventually write the works of Shakespeare. This is like reading the stuff they got down on day bastarding one! You lot couldn't see a fucking sigma diagonal if it came and bit you on your over-developed arses. Goodge St. should put this bloody game on track again. Jesus..why do I bother?!

[pen] No, it's crap.

dazed5] take your sigma diagonals and all that other tripe you have in your tiny tiny mind and stick them up your gaping arsehole.

COCKfosters natch.

Whoopee! big deal, yawnsvile, is that it? the quality of other peoples moves is straining credulity beyond breaking point. Buck up your F***ing ideas. Surely one of you is capable of doing something slightly reasonable, stop behaving like a bunch of pathetic inebriated imbeciles, only able to make purile infantile moves. Green Park

Latimer ROAD for Christs sake! Green park was about as useful as Ann Widdecombe's fanny! Have you lot ever played this game before? You are taking the piss.

The words of Mercury are sweet after the songs of Apollyon. You that way; we to Mornington Crescent.

You do realise -- well, of course you don't -- that the win has been lying wide open for nine moves? But no, you all display as much insight and verve as a treeful of blind three-toed sloths with senile dementia. Here, Dazed5, have a tub of clue musk, I believe the clue mating season is beginning. For Inkspot, a dictionary to improve his spelling. For the dogmael, my brief ten-volume monograph on bidiagonal openings will give him a satisfactory grounding in the basics he has clearly been too hasty to trouble to learn, after which he may at least be able to make his first move without attracting the scorn of real players who may have hoped to face an opponent possessed of some real knowledge. For penelope, a puce feather boa. For the rest, a bucket of pshaws and ptuis to distribute as you wish. It has been a pleasure -- to finish the game.

And st dogmael, next time try to initialise the game with the proper final move. Really, sabotaging the system is as fatuous as stealing a karate master's black belt and imagining you can fight him on equal terms.

So Rensdorf you think you have won!!!! Laugh? I nearly pissed myself, perhaps from the summit of Mount Olympus you can tell me which of these properly sums up your situation, it it A, how great the mighty fallen or B, the harder they come, the harder they fall. Well my son, you are flat on your a*se, having slipped on a fresh Richard III. Oh this moment is so sweet, a moment to cherish as not one of the Gods of Olympus but the court jester puts their foot in it, digs a hole and continues digging with a most obvious foul, falling hook line and sinker for the trap set up by Dazed5. Onwards we go jeering at the inept arrogance of Rensdorf, singing and dancing on his grave all the way to Covent Garden.