[Tuj] I assure you that there is no danger of my falling from the window from which I survey this pigsty of jabbering cretins. Truly did Napoleon observe that while rascality has limits, stupidity does not.

Chalky] When I was seven I'd have though so too. Upminster.

[Btd] When I was seven, I could spell 'thought'. Gospel Oak

Farting Stoats ! What a load of pathetic wimps we have playing this game ! Good job the mighty Ruttsborough isn't here (or anywhere for that matter) he'd have you knipped so far up the Jubilee your podumes would squeak. I'll launch my campaign with Vauxhall placing a steaming-dog-turd podume on the central line between Chancery Lane & St.Paul's. Smelly but effective, I think you'll admit.

Rensdorf, crawl back into the rancid cesspit of bloated rhetoric you call home; Blob, poke your farting stoats up your hole using a long splintery stick; penelope and Chalky, please girls, concentrate your efforts on cooking dinner and looking pretty and leave this, like the parking of cars, to the men. Christ on a fucking hanglider. I have had more pleasure in a VD clinic. I have had an easier time pulling my bottom lip over my head and stapling it to the back of my neck. You lot are about as clever as arse parasites. Now for the LAST TIME BECAUSE I WILL NOT SAY THIS AGAIN. Moorgate.

Dazed: Indeed, your name is apt; you must be dazed. We've had three plays of "Waterloo" which invalidates all other double vowel moves. (Be lucky there hasn't been a fourth, which would force Dollis Hill.) Your insults only reveal the smallness of the box you use for storing you brain (that is, when it's not used to put a hat on). So I discard your move. Blob: Vauxhall? VAUXHALL?? You're risking Vauxhall? Perhaps you don't understand.... Kings Cross St. Pancras

And you 'Will' [what sort of poncey name is that?] can mind yer own sodding business. TEMPLE!

It's a bit rich for someone called "Chalky" to start criticising others' names. I hope whoever taught you to punctuate is still alive, as it will save them spinning in their grave. Since you only seem to understand moves with one word in them, I'll keep this simple for you: Monument.

Ooooh! Darrendiddum's got a new chum to stick up for! Careful - little boys never know when to stop ... Angel

[Penelope (rhymes with envelope)] I shall think of you as Keith Chegwin, but more so. Rensdorf] Your words make my eyes sad. Barbican, upholding the rules... Oh, and Chalky, as you simulpost me... grow up.

Well you bunch of stuck up twats. I bet you all huddle in a corner during the Fart n Ferrets pub quiz, and always get 99% of the questions right. Euston and using the Smeg rule to gain an extra dog turd podume to place on the head of the next player!

Epping That's in Essex, where I assume you're all from.

Zombies at the keyboard again, wake up morons and get a Life! In the history of MC can there have ever have been such a cascade of dismal moves, they continue to mount up silting up the MC⁵ server, like the fatty deposits in a blocked London sewer. This game is rapidly descending into two diabolically dishevelled camps competing for the most grievous move. There are the Killers, intent on wanton destruction of the beautiful game; heathens that make moves that serve no purpose but their own mindlessly nefarious ends. These are the murderous Cain slowly but surely torturing the soul out of Abel and MC with heartles sadistic intent.
The second nauseous group; the bleeding hearts, the whingers, the dire incompetants who’s intolerable and incessant griping gets in the way of any attempt at a decent move. It makes me want to grab hold of your lapels and shout slowly for you to understand “For the love of Ada! Shut the f**k up!!”
Concentrate for more than three seconds, play the game, so pause, give your brain cell some space …Cain: Ada, wait here , forcing Canada Water.

...and as with all such classifications, Inkers, I bet you're in the third group: "Untouchable Me". Well, you're not untouchable: at least that's what I heard. I don't want to be coarse about this, but I'm forced to. Go screw yourself. And West India Quay.

Green Park. It seems nobody here can make a move without flapping their lips for half an hour first.

BolloxBarbican

Darren] Very theatrical; daaaarling. Trying to make a dramatic pithy entrance are we, stop being such a foppy drama queen, flouncing round with ineffectual gestures. This is real, not a rehearsal by some amateur G&S society in a shire village hall. The crude bluntness of your comments can not hide the fact that you admire the school of method acting, but whereas the greats of Al Paccino and Robert De Niro are masters of their craft, I must also congratulate you on your ability to study and adopt the life skills of an ameoba, in its authtenticity and closeness to source it is quite breathtaking unique and a step forward for primitive single cell lifeforms,you are indeed a hero to the all pond life. To paraphrase wise man; We are all born from a single cell. Some remain so.
Continue to ham it up like a court jester, better still shuffle off this stage, for you are not worthy to even sweep these hallowed boards. Shall I compare thee to a London tube station; yours is indeed the West Acton I have ever seen. My move will be a deft Chancery Lane.