Certified Legendary Thread The Cult of Robbo Volume 3

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Thank you my brothers. I have not ventured into this thread since the end of last year for your views on TGO's slurmons...until now. I have been sent into a trance by TGO's start to the season, glued to my television screen nightly to take scriptures and eulogize the great one. There is no chair too high or too small, and the fear from the Nerdling when TGO stepped forth to proclaim he must sit higher, to look down upon his servants, was truly a sight to behold.

Mere mortals would be ashamed to step into thy Fox Footy manger after a show missed, however with a flick of the wrist and a click of the pen, TGO lays bare the prophecies of days gone by after gargling and inhaling thy Holy Corona. Newly castrated worshipper Jesse Hogan was the first victim. Jesse should've known the 8th commandment is 'Thou shalt not sip thy Holy Coronas until post game". Repenting will not come easy. 100 'You're a dickhead Andy Mahers' isn't enough. Jesse must hunker down and testify.

However, it is pure joy to beam TGO's pastry laden presence into my lounge room each night. It is a shame that I have yet to meet the omnipotent one, for I would invite him into my own home to bless it with spilt Corona's, grease filled dim sim wrappers, and the mixed aroma of half eaten lamb kebabs. He would never leave one of his followers without a message however, and the cigarette butts spread across my lounge room floor in line with the stars filling the night sky, correlating to coordinates taking me to the Holy Grail - the Southern Cross late night eatery, where TGO has been spotted many a night, high on the mount of King St.

After deciphering many of TGO's messages, and delving deep into the psyche of thy Lord, please take notes, brethren;

Holy Wentworth is not returning this year. Once TGO hears the dreaded news, make sure you have cleared your schedules, for a grand slurmon is upon us.

All could be revealed.

Praise.
 
Can there ever be enough pre-show beers?

We want to see him rubbing both eyes with the palms of his hands, getting frustrated over nothing, getting his pronouns arse backwards. The epic rants, the guttural groans and belches. The accidental swearing. The barely coherent ramblings that somehow speak a higher truth. That's what we pay our money for.

A skinful is a key element.

None of this calm, thoughtful analysis bullshit.
 
We want to see him rubbing both eyes with the palms of his hands, getting frustrated over nothing, getting his pronouns arse backwards. The epic rants, the guttural groans and belches. The accidental swearing. The barely coherent ramblings that somehow speak a higher truth. That's what we pay our money for.

A skinful is a key element.

None of this calm, thoughtful analysis bullshit.

Spot on brother. So spot on it could be the 'holy spot on carbuncle' on the TGOs holy backside.

I too have been worried by the world weary Zen that seems to afflict him. Yes there have been positive signs, but the smiting of the Hogan for swallowing too much of the vile Swan Lager brew was a mere swatting of a mosquito.

I am worried someone has been slipping the un-Austrayan Sth Melbourne Dim Sims into his morning and arvo snacks of a dozen proper Dimmis. I suspect the odious BarRat and Hutchy Jabberer have been at work.

Still brother, our faith is strong and for bloody terrific reasons. This is TGO and he has not failed us in the past nor will he in the future.

This is the mighty TGO who cast infidel Demetriou from the pagan AFL, outlasted the strange and wrong headed Wilson, restored the reputations of James the Hird and Thompson as paragons of the game and introduced his native tongue, Manglish, as the international first language of footy.

Hunker down and testify.

All Praise (inc mayonnaise).
 
Thank you my brothers. I have not ventured into this thread since the end of last year for your views on TGO's slurmons...until now. I have been sent into a trance by TGO's start to the season, glued to my television screen nightly to take scriptures and eulogize the great one. There is no chair too high or too small, and the fear from the Nerdling when TGO stepped forth to proclaim he must sit higher, to look down upon his servants, was truly a sight to behold.

Mere mortals would be ashamed to step into thy Fox Footy manger after a show missed, however with a flick of the wrist and a click of the pen, TGO lays bare the prophecies of days gone by after gargling and inhaling thy Holy Corona. Newly castrated worshipper Jesse Hogan was the first victim. Jesse should've known the 8th commandment is 'Thou shalt not sip thy Holy Coronas until post game". Repenting will not come easy. 100 'You're a dickhead Andy Mahers' isn't enough. Jesse must hunker down and testify.

However, it is pure joy to beam TGO's pastry laden presence into my lounge room each night. It is a shame that I have yet to meet the omnipotent one, for I would invite him into my own home to bless it with spilt Corona's, grease filled dim sim wrappers, and the mixed aroma of half eaten lamb kebabs. He would never leave one of his followers without a message however, and the cigarette butts spread across my lounge room floor in line with the stars filling the night sky, correlating to coordinates taking me to the Holy Grail - the Southern Cross late night eatery, where TGO has been spotted many a night, high on the mount of King St.

After deciphering many of TGO's messages, and delving deep into the psyche of thy Lord, please take notes, brethren;

Holy Wentworth is not returning this year. Once TGO hears the dreaded news, make sure you have cleared your schedules, for a grand slurmon is upon us.

All could be revealed.

Praise.
Verily brother George of Moorabbin. :thumbsu: :beercheers::smoking:
 

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