Do wake up. I'm not going to go through all that again.

[Darren] Frankly I'd rather you didn't. It was an assault on my sensibilities the first time, a second dose would awaken murderous inclinations. Besides, why waste time opening your mouth if you're not even going to make a move to take the game on a notch? You're all a load of dithering idiots. Perhaps if I speak in TV advertising slogans, the message might just make it through your thick goggle-eyed skulls. Just do it... Finchley Road

[Dazed5] Call that an insult? I call it a pathetic excuse for a compliment. Now, because you're kinda new round here, and not yet labelled as a total waste of space (though, give it time... 5 minutes should do it if you carry on in that limp fashion), I'm going to go easy on you, and point out that references to the Rt Hon Ann Widdecombe are completely inappropriate in this game, and if you had two particles of intelligence to rub together, you'd have realised that already. No, for the lack-lustre, no-brain self-styled player with the experience of a crippled jellyfish the correct posture is to retire into foul language and bathroom humour, in order to attract the deserved approbium of the masses. Oh, and DO remember to choose a really dumb move, like Bank.

rensdork] I think you will find that in initialising the game I also have the right to decree the winning move. If you can not play the winning move, I suggest perhaps you go back and consult your "ten volumes of arse poetry" or whatever the fuck it was (for indeed nay i havent read them - for nor could i even read your entire post, let alone VOLUMES, so turgid and utterly utterly wank is your writing). Fuck you and fuck your diagonals and fuck your shit attempots to win this game. My game. My rules. Everyone else seems to be coping fine (even though it must be said they are playiing with little actual wit.)
Especially for Rensdork, I will illustrate with :-

Bank

[st d] I see it took you several days to think up that piece of idiocy. Observe, the rest of you drooling, slack-jawed incompetents, the shit sandwich he has just spewed out. First, the grand absurdity -- decreeing the winning move, forsooth. Does the holy dog take two moves at chess? Carry the ball at football? Award himself medals for races he never ran? Perhaps he does -- perhaps he even cheats at patience! Then a repetitive filling of swear words, the nearest his limited mind can come to real invective. Finally, the other side of the sandwich, an attempt to co-opt his microcephalic colleages into complicity with his self-assumed dictatorship, berating them with insults the while. So then, you can either accept his deserved contempt and bow to his caligulous rule, well be you suited to each other, or accept that the game has already been won. I shall take great pleasure watching from firm ground as the ship of fools drifts away on the sea of ignorance, and its denizens tear up its planks with which to beat each other. Ecclesiastes 7:5-6 will repay study.

[Rensdorf] Oooh look at you with your big words. And really I cannot stand those who invoke biblical references in a secular context. So crawl back down that hole you came from, or at least have the decency to play under your usual name, you coward.

As ever, Rensdorf and rab have gone off on one, and forgotten to make a move. How easy does this game have to be made before you people can play it? Charing Cross

rensdork] forsooth, gadzooks and verily; I fist you hard in your broken hole.

[Darren] The pass was implicit, which even the most casual - and I would say you are very casual - of observers would have noticed.

And?

[rab] I suppose "very casual" is some sort of insult in your up-tight hate-filled world.

Bob the Dog] If you're not going to contribute, go play in a blender. Now: Barkingside. No biblical crap or long words here.

[Tuj] Mummy not there to help with the long words? Try 'defenestrate'... Monument

Tuj] So?

Tuj] and it is dog NOT Dog. OK?

[Bob the DOG] Some people have the brains to think out what they're going to say before they post it. I can see you're not one of them. Oval is the shape of your nose.

Belsize Park. Yeah? So? Got somethin' to say?

Chalky] No that's fine. That is a perfectly good move. FOR AN AMOEBA.

st d] You can tell the good jokes by the ones where you have to capitalise(watch penelope, watch!) to show where THE PUNCHLINE is. And boOb tHe DoG? I can call you whatever I like. How does LOSER sound? HA HA. Lambeth North. Reckon Rensdorf's demonstrated defenestration?

[Tudge] I use the small 'p' so as not to intimidate weeners like you. Think Penelope Keith, but more so. South Kensington, of course.

Chorleywood, not that any of you rabble could afford to live there.

¡Usted es todo tan estúpido, me hace lloro con la frustración! Tooting Beck

... and who let you in? Bog off and invade something overseas.
Waterloo

Mfoi]That last effort was demeaning to the whole game, I can tell that you are the type of person, that goes fishing and takes graet satisfaction in catching tiddlers; how cute. While I avoid the easy option, you on the other hand, are just so proud of your feeble efforts, playing Tooting Beck (so asinine), at this juncture, it is the same as returning back to your squalid tent and girlfriend - going into extremes of improbability - as the rain beats down on your worthless and wretched figure clutching your woebegone prize tiddler; pleased as punch and excited as a Firday night p**shead sniffing at the barmaids apron, there is the inevitable slip, and the disaster waiting to happen. What a squalid sordid sight, you, groping your tiddler through her wet flaps. Go back to the start, don't expect these other impoverished players to be any help, a cursory glance by a novice would be appalled by this contemptible rabble. With no restrictions Baker Street is a move of discernment and perception beyond the frog spawn that you miserably call a brain.

Oh SHUT UP you boring little tit
Russell Square YOU'RE ALL IN KNID....Mwaahaahaa!

[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.

Monument, Inkspot, to verbal diarrhoea.

Oh, for crying out loud. I decided to leave it nice and late to join this game, so that I could take advantage of the pig's ear you lot have inevitably made of it, but really! Arsing around on the DLR like that isn't so much a pig's ear as a giant ear grown on a luminous lab rat's back. The only answer is Alperton, and what sort of opening move is that?

It would seem that Dazed has vitriolled himself to a standstill, probably wet himself with all the excitement and gone off to change his nappy. [Darren] Are you helping him ? Meanwhile Inkspot has taken incoherency to new levels. To be expected really. So, without further ado City Road putting Darren in strick and deflating inkspot to a mean smudgy stain. Harsh but fair I think.

[Blob] Oh, don't worry, I'm not helping him. None of you need any help to piss yourselves. West Brompton.

I don't need any help, I could beat you lot blindfolded with my cock in a sling. And as for help from Darren, well who needs help from a bed-wetting Oedipus like that? Rotherhithe should at least keep this bloody game alive for a while yet.

Fanny batter eating fuckwits, the lot of you Fenchurch for £200-00 worth of podumes...............

Usted idiota de brained de guisante.....Tooting Beck and your Hovercraft is full to the brim with Eels!

"Minsiter," if you insist on having such a long name, you could at least learn to spell it properly. On a happier note, I see the standard of widey's repartee has improved. Perhaps we can attribute this to Hyde Park Corner? New players may like to know that there are five different Dazeds, each numbered according to its quality. Dazed1 is the best, followed by Dazed2, etc. Dazed4 cleans up after dogs for a living - with his mouth.

I see that the spirit is abroad in mc⁵ to kill a few games. No more suitable candidate could be found than this malebolge, together with its inhabitants, who combine Eloi witlessness with Morlock cretinism. Ah, but we must wait on st gollum to perform the honours, must we not? Making up his own magic phrase to clutch the preciouss moment to his own clammy, pustule-covered breast?

And you couldn't even be bothered to make a guess.

[Darren] Mystery Crescent is only valid if declared in advance, idiot. Of course, maybe the dog had the even worse judgement to create the game as a permanent one. As far as I'm concerned, my play of MC ended the matter and all that remains is a conga of imbeciles. Don't put yourself out, though; you are not expected to have the intellect to perceive the truth of the matter.

Bugger off this is a new station about to open on the Northen line! Now where's that dumb ass brother of mine?

I shall play the next move especially for you rensdork and you can imagine yourself once again blissfully on holiday in Zurich, hanging out in your favorite public convenience near the railway station : Swiss Cottage

[Rensdorf] At least I have a decent grasp of English grammar. Chancery Lane.

South Kenton, honestly, you're all behaving like members of parliament. Except less classy.

[Darren] Your ability to struggle through a "See Spot run" book while moving your lips does not qualify you to pass judgement on anyone else's use of the language.

(Rensdorf) You're supposed to make some attempt to insert the name of a tube station to accompany your witless contributions. Furthermore, I note that an anagram of your name is "For nerds". Don't assume that this page is similarly dedicated. Meanwhile, I zoom out to Epping.

Epping? That prevents nothing. I'd go ahead and win it, but it'd be a hollow victory over you all and I don't think I could explain how in sufficiently simple language. So I'll just ride over to Cockfosters.

Arnos Grove. Cock your fosters at that, losers.

You know Homo Erectus played a more intelligent and complex version of the Great Game than you lot are managing, and there were precious few podumes about in those days. I will attempt to inject a little quality into the proceedings with a rather deft Amersham / Chesham bifurcation. Buckinghamshire is wild.

What's up with him? Did he step on the live rail at South Wimbledon?

Nah, he's probably still at Cockfosters. Rosie] I your surname "Lyoldbuggerasusual"? If not, maybe it should be.