A game of MC where rude and outspoken comments about everyone else's bad play/attitude/spelling/general character/personal hygiene/parentage/&c is de rigeur. Is that simple enough for you, or should I SPELL IT OUT?
Some of us only need false teeth to play castanets. Latimer Road, meaning rab can't use anything longer than a six letter word next go. Think you're so smart, eh?
As I expected, skip a day and the pre-sentient life-forms continue their aimless milling around, as oblivious to the real nature of what is happening as slime-moulds in the swarming phase. Dujon displays as much coherent structure as a spider on caffeine, while plump is surely rab's sought-for baboon, long may they enjoy nibbling each other's testicles. St. Paul's, a precise counterpoise to the situation at Waterloo.
Wrens duff church aspires to pitiful as a move and invokes Morden not so much counterpoise as counter punch. It's the end of the line for you in more ways than one.
Rensdorf and plump, whilst attempting a co-ordinated whispering move (Marlon Brando v that Horse bloke, circa 1995) have missed the point. Bloddy novices, don't you just luv 'em? So, straddle to Euston (dropping a ceramic as I do so) puts the whole city circle into instablility yet allowing myself an out. Work it out, suckers - especially you, Tuj, since I've got your castanet (it's/they are plural, like sheep!) Cast a net? So simple with you simpletons.
As I was explaining just the other day to the Archbishop of Canterbury, players committing such absurdities as Dujon has thus far manifested should be soundly laughed at until they learn their place, which is somewhere south of the bottom rungs of a kindergarten MC ladder. Canada Water, which sweeps away his pitiful excuse for a token stack. Ha! Ha! As the Icelandic proverb has it, a novice stinks in three moves. [penelope] Full leathers and a pink tutu.
Rensdorf] Though you are an excellent fashio guru (spot the sarcasm), I agree with Dujon: it is obvious that you are an arrogant wanker. Canning Town, straddling.
[Tuj} May you grow man breasts and forever have to cover yourself in the communal shower. Holland Park ... and where's that nauseating little turd, st dogmael, scurried off to?
Rained Off, or whatever your fucking name is, name dropping the A of C carries no kudos here. The only thing I can say, in these circumstances is Chigwell and that should put that tart Chalky into a right little strop.
[Chalky] I suspect that st d's ducking for cover, the little a**ehole! No doubt he's one of those who wears two pairs of socks - one on his feet and the other to fill out his denims. I'm off to Paddington to see if I can find him. [Tuj] Your plate is on the way back - think yourself fortunate that I've knocked out the teeth before you get it back.
[Tuj] Arrogant? The concept you are groping for in that lump of porridge you affect to call a brain is selbstbewusst. It is inexpressible in this decadent English language, but you may consider it to mean "having an accurate measure of one's own worth". But it is well that the players here do not have this concept, lest your minds implode with the realisation of the amount of air, food, and space you have taken up with your unnecessary lives. Arrogance is a vice only in those with nothing to be arrogant about. Shadwell! You see? You see?
the "Archbishop of Canterbury" must and can only be the poor man's pet name for his own cock. God knows no-one else will talk to him. Touching to see that he tries to engage it in a proper relationship. Just in case you actually wanted to know where I was Chalky I was getting on with "A LIFE". Though I would look back in here to reassure myself that it can always get worse, like Duj's Mum (which is the only thing you are going to find round there mr D - try looking in a phonebox - it currently says "NEW IN TOWN GENUINE PHOTO") Archway
st d]So you have finally crept out from under your stone congratulations on getting out of lice infested pit and enlightening us with your presence we are all just soooo grateful you made that last move but be honest it was crap Archway a safe move for dullards with no clue or foresight or understanding very much like Gusset Login and his attempt at knip, what a pitiful and pathetic, feeble minded effort. Let me bring things down to your level just for Chalky, West Ham and to be generous, here's a hint it's a magenta station.
for fuck's sake Inkspot, if you are just going to treat this game as a place to to come and practice being patronising (and God knows you need the practise) at least strive to get your "your/you're"s correct. Jesus H Christ on a cocking bicycle. Weeping. Archway again.
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!
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.
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?!
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.
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.
Well, with that move, you've met yours...probably been listening to too much ABBA. Waterloo played after an unsuccessful MC opens a buffalo charge, free switch to an American system and back, so Clark/Lake (Chicago) and Dollis Hill
Using the wooden spunt made famous by Wee Airchie McSporran have levered the loop open and headed over Upminster Bridge leaving Tuj and his quivering buttocks in the mire of his own secretions.
Why the hell have none of you had the common decency to wait until I had arrived? I might have known you'd all just waste the best part of a week covering the MC board in your spittle without me to point you in the right direction. Which is, as any fool knows, Shepherd's Bush. Now make an effort.
[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 :-
[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
[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.
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?
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.
[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.
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
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.
[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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
"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?
[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.
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
[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.
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.
[Tuj] "I your surname"... I'd suggest re-learning the language from the start, if I thought for minute you had the brains to understand it. And as for you, plump, you can Finchley Road.
Darren, if you got your hand out of your arse you might just realise is was a typo, or to use the Rensdorf, a "typographical error". Basically, some of us have lives and therefore reasons to hurry. We don't just act like scrotes. Epping.
Rosie] i am away in wales, on sad family business until sometime early next week, not that it is any of your fucking business. Seeing as I have popped my head in, and seeing as the game is proceeding in such a dismally bassackward manner, I suppose I might as well vainly try to inject a bit of tension into your sad sad lives with a move. Citing Ffestiniog Bypass 1947) I play >Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrnbastarddrobwllllantysiliogogofuckinggoch
Bloody hell the fecking imbecile couldn't even be arsed to get the fecking markup right, fecking wanker; Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrnbastarddrobwllllantysiliogogofuckinggoch
Shitty Death ! Mother bleedin' Theresa ! Thought you snuffed it 'bout the same time as that malingering Diana bird got herself squished in a tunnel ! How's your tea towel you haggard old crone ? Saved any sinners lately ? No ! Thought not. No fucking good now your dead are you ? Oh, I suppose someone's going to say they've been cured of leprosy or some other revolting disease by touching one of your rotting sandals or something - but then you Holy Water Brigade are all the same aren't you ? See the Blessed Lady popping up all over the place - that cloud ! Looks just like the Virgin Mary ! No, it look like a cloud, dick-head. Oh look, that shrivelled potato looks just like Mother Theresa ! Let's get down on our knees and lick our way to the friggin' Vatican ! You're all a load of donky-headed Blackfriars - it is alleged.
[Darren] At last, someone, if only by chance, has made a true statement. But then, so will a bunch of monkeys pounding on a London Transport map for long enough. You do realise, I hope, that certain people are taking notes and resolving that never, never, will any of you be selected to even play at the county level?
[Tuj] Yes! Yes! Indeed! You have correctly noted that I have opinions! No kidding, Sherlock, as the English expression has it. The difference between my opinions and yours, my dear Tuj, is that mine are worth listening to.
... if you want to see an extreme example of fat-headed stupidity to match anything in the record books. Well done, Rensdorf. Fuckwitted right to the very end.
I think that most people here would be more than satisfied to play at Cunty Level. I am disgusted at myself for posting such an easy winning move. It should have been Mornington Christ on a Fucking Cunting bicycle Weeping Gently into his Piss Stained Samosa Crescent ON THE COCKING HILL. No imagination really , the lot of you. Useless bunch of arrogant baboons.
Gah. Where I come from, "Bad Tempered Critical And Tetchy" doesn't mean "Swearing". Sarcasm, belittling, and generally showing off one's own superiority and the others' inferiority, yes, but to descend into swearing is merely puerile. Even merely *calling* somebody an idiot is idiotic if you cannot *prove* it - repeating a statement, no matter how loudly, does not make it true, even with the added so-called emphasis of obscenities which in fact serve only to illustrate one's own lack of intellect. I belatedly *farkle* in the general direction of all those overaged children who have apparently never grown up.
[JLE] I pity you were unable to stand the heat and ran away after your first and only move. One could have appreciated the vaguely semi-sentient competition you might have provided. Shooting fish in barrels, while not a taxing diversion, provides marginally more entertainment than shooting pond slime.
JLE] Jesus Fucking Christ! Where I come from, people in bad & tetchy moods are oft known to swear. It is also rather disingenous to say that swearing belies lack of intellect. It is hard for me to continue with a reply - not because of any lack or otherwise of intellect, but merely because I really could not give a monkey's arse. Swearing can be used by people not because they lack the words but because they lack the inclination to actually enter into a discussion. Life is sometimes just too short. But please farkle away, dear boy, farkle away.
[JLE] I presume you'd also claim that starting a rant with "Gah" is a sign of intelligence, whereas it merely illustrates your lack of vocabulary. Furthermore, your childish use of asterisks to emphasise words when bold or italic text would be more appropriate provides clear evidence your views are not worthy of further consideration.