Hi there, we already know each other. You called me a shite talker last week for linking the IBA to the flasher story. At the time I took no notice of you because your profile looked boring from afar, otherwise I would have sent this sooner.
Karma has an awful way of catching up. I didn’t know it would be this soon.
So, how was it at Grosvenor Road police station? Did they give you the rubber glove treatment or did you say you were sorry and agree to be a £10 tout like all the other wannabe Jessie Pinkmans?
Did you do a ging gang gooley and tell the cops to fack aff like you say you told your Da when he presented you with a dope test all those years ago?
I love your kitchen tiles by the way, very chucky. I’m sure Bobby Sands will be giving you the nod from above and passing your alleged drug dealing off as a minor misdemeanour. The laughter of our children indeed, you’re a geg. You do realise the Brits revenge is wee bastards like you, claiming to be republican – laughing at us.
That was for personal use, was it? How come you planned on walking out of the Odyssey £500 richer? Screenshots are the devil Rian.
All that money on your bed and the machete suggests it has been obtained in a not very pleasant way. I’m hoping its dud money and that knife is a plastic one from a joke shop. Who doesn’t love an aul plastic sword prank?
And your motorbike, I’m sure your neighbours just can’t get enough of you when you rev it up and head off to the bog meadows with the wind in your hair. How much have you cost the National Wildlife Trust tearing that place up? It serves those swans right, them and their squawking.
You see Rian, me and you are similar in a way. I too was a dickhead at your age. But I didn’t take photos of my knobby behaviour and seek peer approval. All this fame you’ve got now, you’ve brought it on yourself. Had you kept your activities quiet, you wouldn’t be known as the biggest twat in Belfast right now. You’ve allowed yourself to be scapegoated for all the lightweights who couldn’t handle their drink at Hardwell.
What I’m keeping an eye out for though, is you tied to a lamppost with a placard. That will make a nice new profile picture on your Facebook. If the people of St James’ don’t tolerate a pervert taking his bits out, I’m pretty sure they won’t like an alleged drug dealer living among them.
You don’t need me or anyone else to tell you, you need a Jeremy Kyle style intervention. But you won’t care because you’re nuts aren’t you, off the rails, you probably do more Yeeooing than a flegger at Twadell.
All that is bravado and it’s clear as day. We know you’ve got a soft side, we know that the tough guy persona is just an act. Because one day you will hit rock bottom and start asking yourself some serious questions. It’s happened to the best of us and it will happen to you.
It’s ok to turn it around. Don’t end up in Maghaberry and walking about like a homeboy with your tag. Take the help you’re being offered. Start thinking about a career that doesn’t involve drugs.
If you have any respect for your parents, you’ll wise up.