Certified Legendary Thread The Cut

[Dory_77]

SYLVIA!
FUCK YEAH!
Gonna tear Richmond another ****ing new arsehole!
SYLVIA
FUCK YEAH!
Gonna rack up 40 touches and probably kick 8 goals!
Tiger boys your game is through, 'cause now you have to answer to:
SYLVIA!
FUCK YEAH!
So lick his butt and suck on his balls!
SYLVIA!
**** YEAH!
Hope he plays this well when we take on the Crows!

It's the dream that we all share,
He's the hope for tomorrow, FUCK YEAH!

Nahas: YOU'RE FUCKED!
Riedwoldt: YOU'RE FUCKED!
Martin: YOU'RE FUCKED!
Maric: YOU'RE FUCKED!
Conca: YOU'RE FUCKED!
Newman: YOU'RE FUCKED!
Deledio: YOU'RE ****ED!
Cotchin: YOU'RE ****ED!
(Breakdown...)

Vickery: YOU'RE FUCKED!
Ellis: YOU'RE FUCKED!
Batchelor: YOU'RE FUCKED!
Richmond: YOU'RE FUCKED!
Gold Coast Suns: YOU'RE FUCKED!
GWS: YOU'RE FUCKED!
Dane Swan: You're fucked?
Collingwood: ...

FUCK YEAH!

 

[Wonaeamirri33]

Lynden Dunn's father teaching him the family tradition...

 

[tasmanlvr]

Melbourne selects "Football Mummy", an experimental player, with pick three in the 2012 AFL Draft. Football Mummy becomes an instant hit, and earns 50 coaches votes in the first five games and is predicted to win the Brownlow easy. One day, he is playing against Richmond and watches Pia Miller in the stands.

Neeld: "Oh no! The professor told us not to let him get a boner!"

A ripping sound is heard. Football Mummy looks down and shrugs before being handed a six match suspension from the Match Review Panel.

 

[The Professor]

Reporter "Hey Tom Scully. Have you left the demons? Why are you flying to Sydney?"

Phil Scully "Nothing to see here boys. Just going to check out the facilities. I believe Tom will walk out of there a free hotel"

 

[Marlowe]

Club coaching interview, 2011.

Neeld: Hear ye, hear ye! Ye olde club coach proclaimed crappy by all! Chooseth Mark Neeld, and he shalt rock thy world!

McLardy: Good God! He is fabulous!
Schwab: Mmm yes, he has embiggened that role with his cromulent performance.

 

[d33my]

A typical Neeld post-match address:

Neeld: Calm down, Neeldilly-diddly-diddly-diddly-doodly, they did their best, shodilly-iddly-iddly-diddly. Gotta be nice, hostiddly-iddly-diddly-diddly... Aw, hell-diddly-ding-dong-crap! CAN'T YOU MORONS DO ANYTHING RIGHT?!!!! [everyone gasps]
Frawley: Hey!
McDonald: Mark, we meant well. And everyone here tried their best.
Neeld: Well, this club can't win a premiership on good intentions, Tom! Oh, your disposal efficiency is out of control, but we can't blame you, because you have gooood intentions.
Bartram: Hey, back off, man!
Neeld: Ooh, okay, dude, I wouldn't want you to have a cow, man. Here's a catchphrase you better learn for your adult years: "Hey, buddy, GOT A QUARTER?!!" [everyone gasps again]
Bartram: I am shocked and appalled.
Morton: Mr. Neeld, with all due respect, Clint didn't do anything.
Neeld: [gasps sarcastically] Do I hear the sound of butting in? That's gotta be little Cale Morton, Melbourne's answer to a QUESTION NO ONE ASKED! [Sylvia laughs] What do we have here? [he shakes Sylvia's belly] The long, flabby arm of the midfield? The last case you got to the bottom of was a case of Coopers!
Dunn: [writing in a notebook] Coopers, oh, that's going in the act.
Neeld: Oh, yeah, the clown. The only one of you buffoons who doesn't make me laugh. [to Sellar] And as for you, I don't know you but I'm sure you're a jerk!
Sellar: Hey, I've only been here a few months, what's going on?
Neeld: [to Bate] You ugly, hate-filled man!
Bate: Hey, hey, I may be ugly and hate-filled, but I... Um, what was the third thing you said? [Neeld walks over to Moloney, who smiles nervously]
Neeld: [calmly] Brent... you are the worst footballer I have ever met.
Moloney: Hey, I got off pretty easy.

 

[tasmanlvr]

Demetriou: "Okay Melbourne, you've got a top five draft pick, congratulations!"
Melbourne recruiting staff: "Thanks Demetriou."
Demetriou: "Okay, Melbourne, the category is pick four, and 2007, so we need five consonants and a vowel."
Melbourne recruiting staff: "Uh... okay... um... Z, 4, Q... another Q... uh... a third Q... and the Batman symbol."
Demetriou: "Okay, no help there. 15 seconds if you want to take a shot at it. Talk it out."
Melbourne recruiting staff: "Is it Cale Morton from Claremont?"
Demetriou: (in a state of shock): "I... don't... believe... it!"
Melbourne recruiting staff: "Oh my God! I just took a shot in the dark! Holy crap!"

Neeld: "I can't believe we actually won! But I suppose it's not the strangest thing I've seen in a game... like when Dean Bailey was coaching."

Flashback.

Bailey: "Okay, players, the answer once again is, 'what we do consistently in the back half'. Mr Schwab, what was your response? Schwabby reveals his response. Bailey reads closely. yeliaB naeD." Dean Bailey disappears.
Schwab: "Only saying his name backwards can sack him and send him to Adelaide, where he belongs."

 

[The Mighty Boosh]

Announcer: And now back to Wheel of Fortune!
[The camera closes in on Mark Neeld, who's got his hands clenched, his thumbs up, and a big grin on his face. He pumps his fists softly. A new car waits behind him to win it]
Tony Barber: All right, Mark, congratulations on making it all the way to the bonus round!
Mark: Thanks, Tony!
Tony Barber: You've got some family watching here tonight.
Mark: Yeah, they're all rooting for me.The MFC is one big family.
[The Bentleigh bar. A crowd has gathered to watch the show. All the boys are there]
Hi, everybody watching at the Bentleigh!
Watts: That's us!
Howe: Hehey! [both thumbs up]
Morton: [amid other chatter, voice only] Hey Mark!
Jurrah: Good luck coach!
[Back to the studio.]
Tony Barber: Well let's see if you can't make everyone proud. The clue is as follows:
"Many Australian natives are dense and difficult to work with; this one in particular doesn't even cut well with an axe"
Mark: Okay. [deep exhale]
Tony Barber: As always, we give you the letters R, T, S, L, and E. [The letter R lights up blue and is turned around] We just need three more consonants, and a vowel.
Mark: Okay I'd like an N, a J, and an H.
Tony Barber: And a vowel?
Mark: [quickly crosses his fingers in both hands and grits his teeth] An O please.
Tony Barber:
Okay, well, looks like you're gonna get a lot of help here. [more letters light up blue and are turned around. Mark claps softly -the letters are JH, but no O]

J_RR_H

[Mark stops clapping]
Mark: Uh... Well, uh...
Tony Barber: The clue again - "Many Australian natives are dense and difficult to work with; this one in particular doesn't even cut well with an axe". Ten seconds, Mr. Neeld.
Mark: I know it but I don't think I should say it.
Tony Barber: Five seconds, Mr. Neeld.
Mark: Oh all right uh, I'd like to solve the puzzle! Jurrah! Liam Jurrah! [the audience is stone quiet. Mark gets the buzzer for the wrong answer and drops his arms.] Huh? [The last letters are turned around - A .] Ohhh...
Schwab: [covers his eyes] Oooo.
[Davey is stunned]
Mark: [subdued] Oh, JARRAH. Of course, jarrah wood. [sheepish grin] Right.

 

[The Mighty Boosh]

...db

 

[tasmanlvr]

Neeld (upon arrival): "To start press any key. Where's the any key? I see Esc, Ctrl, and Pig Up... there doesn't seem to be any any key! Whew... all this coaching is making me thirsty. I think I'll order a Tab."

Presses TAB on the computer.

"Whoops, no time for that now, my coaching career is starting!"

 

[LeverPuller]

Is it possible for a non-Bay 13 thread to win Bay 13 TOTY? Seriously, piss myself every time.

Brilliant. All of you.

 

[The Mighty Boosh]

Robbo: Mr. Mclean, this is the most blatant case of cheating since my article about the Carlton FC under the table payments.
Brock: So Do you think it'll get me some more attention?
Robbo: Brock, I don't use the word "hero" very often, but you are the greatest hero in Australian history.
Brock: Woo hoo!

AFL Commission: Mr. Clothier we've been in here for four hours. Do you have any evidence at all?
Brett Clothier: Well, Your Honor. We've plenty of hearsay and conjecture. Those are kinds of evidence.

 

[LeverPuller]

Four former MFC captains are smoking cigars and having French wine after the best and fairest...
Todd Viney: Aye, very passable, that, very passable bit of risotto.
David Neitz: Nothing like a good glass of Château de Chasselas, eh, Junior?
James McDonald: You're right there, Neita.
Garry Lyon: Who'd have thought thirty year ago we'd all be sittin' here drinking Château de Chasselas, eh?
Viney: In them days we was glad to have a bottle of Gatorade.
Neitz: A cup o' warm Gatorade.
Lyon: Without flavour or colour.
McDonald: Or Gatorade!
Viney: In a cracked bottle, an' all.
Lyon: Oh, we never had a bottle. We used to have to drink out of a damaged tank.
Neitz: The best we could manage was to suck on our sweaty jumpers after we'd played.
McDonald: But you know, the club was happier in those days, although it were poor.
Viney: Because we were poor. Ol' Gutnick used to say to me, "Money doesn't buy you happiness, son".
Lyon: Aye, 'e was right.
Viney: Aye, 'e was.
Lyon: We were happier then and we had nothin'. We used to train in this tiny old stadium with great big holes in the roof.
Neitz: Stadium! You were lucky to train in a stadium! We used to train in one gym, all forty-six of us, no equipment, 'alf the floor was missing, and we were all 'uddled together in one corner for fear of falling.
McDonald: Eh, you were lucky to have a gym! We used to have to train in t' foyer!
Viney: Oh, we used to dream of trainin' in a foyer! Would ha' been a palace to us. We used to train in an old sewerage pipe under Melbourne High. We started up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! Stadium? Huh.
Lyon: Well, when I say 'stadium' it was only the carpark of Waverley surrounded by a couple of trees filled with birds, but it was a stadium to us.
Neitz: We were evicted from our carpark; we 'ad to go and train in the Bay.
McDonald: You were lucky to have the Bay! There was the whole admin and football department of the club, all hundred-fifty of us, set up in an old portable next to Sydney Rd.
Viney:School Portable?
McDonald: Aye.
Viney: You were lucky. We trained for three months in a paper bag in a septic tank, more commonly known as Moorabin. We used to have to get there at six in the morning, clean the bleachers, eat a crust of stale bread, go to train down t' cage, fourteen hours a day, week-in week-out, for barely a win, and when we got home the media would flog us like we were Fitzroy.
Neitz:Luxury. We used to have to get to the Bay at six o'clock in the morning, clean the syringes, eat a handful of 'ot gravel, train twenty hour day at Queenscliffe for not even a draw, come home, and the media would accuse us of being pretenders to anything resembling a football side!
McDonald: Well, of course, we had it tough. We used to 'ave to get to the portable at twelve o'clock at night and lick Sydney Rd clean wit' tongue. We had two bits of cold gravel, trained twenty-four hours a day running from trams for not even a close loss, and when we got home the media would say Richmond was worse and accuse us of tanking!
Lyon: Right. I had to get to training in the morning at ten o'clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, train twenty-nine hours a day being trodden on by Hawthorn players, and pay Don Scott for permission to come to Waverley, and when we got home, the media would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah.
Viney: And you try and tell the young captains of today that ..... they won't believe you.
ALL: They won't!

 

[MAXIMUM GRUNDAGE]

He's super thrilled.

 

[LeverPuller]

McLardy to the members: Don't worry about a thing everyone. I'm going to help you through
this.
These are all normal signs. Club losing terribly...dead season...just sit back and relax.
That's just the trade period starting...that's just the draft week...
That's just the feeling when you find out we didn't get anyone good...
<The members sigh>

 

[LeverPuller]

Terry Wallace, Brett Ratten and Dean Bailey are all having a drink at Andrew Demetriou's private bar. AD is the bartender.

Wallace: Hey, Andrew...you able to watch the Round 22, 2007 game for me? Us against St Kilda
Demetriou: Yeah, sure thing Terry.
[watches the game]
[Richmond do nothing to win]
Not trying to win! [everyone laughs]
Great prank, fellas, great prank. Oh, I'm gonna be sick tonight.
Ratten: Hey Andrew, you want to check out my Round 22, 2007 coaching moves??
Demetriou: _Do_ I?! [walks over]
[Ratten points out the players he didn't tag to let Melbourne win]
Ooh! I'm burning up here. Ooh! [everyone laughs]
Aw, taking advantage of my draft-compromised situation. Ho, ho, it's
funny _and_ it makes you think. Oh, I need some coffee before I
pass out. Dean, let's watch that Round 19 thriller again.
Bailey: [gets his coaching notes out] This is going to be great!
[Demetriou watches the game]
Ratten: Oh, jeez.
Demetriou: Aw, you lost that one on purpose!
Wallace: That's not funny, Dean.
Ratten: Yeah! We were just messing around, and you had to go too far.

 

[PureFooty]

Neeld sits in office awaiting the arrival of each uncontracted player one by one. Connolly assists and calls upon each player.
Connolly: Joel Macdonald, right this way mate.
Joel gets up, walks past his teammates and enters
Neeld: Oh, it’s Joel Macdonald, Melbourne’s petty attempt at recycling a player.
Joel: Your never lost for words are you Neeldy?
Neeld: Oh, believe me Joel, you’ve left me speechless many times, and matter of fact that’s why we're here. You see Joel, your cut.
Joel: But…
Neeld: But nothing Joel, good luck with your future endeavours, third times a charm, right? Next!

Jamie Bennell enters
Neeld: Jamie! How’s the knee?
Jamie: It’s getting there.
Neeld: Jamie, your cut.
Jamie: Are you serious?
Neeld: Jamie, if you can recall the last time I was joking around I’ll give you a 5 year contract here and now.
Jamie ponders, then leaves the room.

Cale Morton enters
Neeld: Look Cale, I’m gonna be completely honest with you
Cale: OK Needly I’m ready.
Neeld: Cale, we see you as an important part of our footy club
Cale: Oh, phew, for a second there I thought I was…
Neeld: Cale, you didn’t let me finish, your importance is subject to your trade value.
Cale: I’m not following…
Neeld: Cale, we want you to be our captain.
Cale: Really!
Neeld: No you moron, we are trading you, it’ll be great. We will get overs, while you will be someone else’s problem; it’s a win-win.

Cale, leaves still confused and looks to Connolly
Cale: But I’m a number 4 draft pick?
Connolly: So was Luke Livingston
Cale: Who?
Connolly: Exactly

Spencer dawdles in
Neeld: Your Cut
Spencer walks out

Bate now enters
Neeld: Do you like playing with Casey?
Bate: Not really
Neeld: Well worry no more, cos’ you my friend are cut.
Bate walks out
Neeld: Oh, and Bater
Bate: Yes Neeldy
Neeldy searches through his draws and pulls out a disc and stares at it
Neeld: I listened to your album…
Bate: and…
Neeld: anddd its shit. It’s ironic though because it resembles the way you play… slow, boring and one dimensional.

Neeld looks towards Connolly as if nothing had happened
Neeld: Alright, time for a break. Let’s get some lunch
Connolly: I gotta say Mark, I didn’t see all that coming.
Neeld: They never do Chris, the reality bus; it’s very much hit and run.

 

[KickLongTackleHard]

Sorry for going off topic, but bring on the cut..looking forward to it more than the draft. Time to lance some sub standard, lazy footballers from the group. Let the pruning begin!

 

[The Mighty Boosh]

PureFooty that was awesome. And I don't think it's just because i've had far too much to drink.

 

[The Mighty Boosh]

Neeld: Old Woman!

The player turns around, revealing that he is in fact a man.

Man: Man!
Neeld: Man, sorry.... What captain leads that team over there?
Man: I'm thirty-one!
Neeld: (suprised) What?
Man: I'm thirty-one! I'm not old--
Neeld: Well I can't just call you "man"...
Man: Well you could say "Brad"--
Neeld: I didn't know you were called Brad!
Man: Well, you didn't bother to find out, did you?!
Neeld: I did say sorry about the "old woman", but from behind, you looked--
Man: Well I object to your...you automatically treat me like an inferior!
Neeld: Well I *am* coach...
Man: Oh, coach, eh, very nice. And 'ow'd you get that, eh?
By exploiting the players! By 'angin' on to outdated imperialist dogma
which perpetuates the economic and social differences at our club.
If there's ever going to be any progress,--
Watts: Brad! There's some lovely filth on this 'ere DVD!
(noticing Neeld) Oh! 'Ow'd'ja do?
Neeld: How do you do, good lady. I am Mark, coach of the Demons. Whose
team is that?
Watts: Coach of the 'oo?
Neeld: Coach of the Demons.
Watts: 'Oo are the Demons?
Neeld: Well we all are! We are all Demons! And I am your coach.
Watts: I didn't know we 'ad a coach! I thought we were autonomous collective.
Green: (mad) You're fooling yourself! We're living in a dictatorship! A
self-perpetuating autocracy in which the average class player--
Watts: There you go, bringing class into it again...
Green: That's what it's all about! If only people would--
Neeld: Please, *please*, good people, I am in haste! WHO leads the team?
Watts: No one leads the team.
Neeld: Then who is your captain?
Watts: We don't have a captain!
Neeld: (suprised) What??
Green: I *told* you! We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune! We're taking
turns to act as a sort of executive-officer-for-the-week--
Neeld: (uninterested) Yes...
Green: But all the decisions *of* that officer 'ave to be ratified at a
special bi-weekly meeting--
Neeld: (perturbed) Yes I see!
Green: By a simple majority, in the case of purely internal affairs--
Neeld: (mad) Be quiet!
Green: But by a two-thirds majority, in the case of more major--
Neeld: (very angry) BE QUIET! I *order* you to be quiet!
Green: "Order", eh, 'oo does 'e think 'e is?
Neeld: I am your coach!
Watts: Well I didn't vote for you!
Neeld: You don't vote for coaches!
Watts: Well 'ow'd you become coach then?
(holy music up)
Neeld: Gary Lyon of the Lake-- his arm clad in the purest shimmering samite,
held aloft a contract from the bosom of the water, signifying by
divine providence that I, Neeld, was to sign that contract. THAT is why
I am your coach!
Green: (laughingly) Listen: Strange ex-players lying in ponds distributing contracts
is no basis for a system of government! Supreme executive power
derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some... farcical
aquatic ceremony!
Neeld: (yelling) BE QUIET!
Green: You can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some
hairy has-been threw a contract at you!!
Neeld: (coming forward and grabbing the man) Shut *UP*!
Green: I mean, if I went 'round, saying I was the chairman, just because some
moistened bint had lobbed a piece of paper at me, they'd put me away!
Neeld: (throwing the man around) Shut up, will you, SHUT UP!
Green: Aha! Now we see the violence inherent in the system!
Neeld: SHUT UP!
Green: (yelling to all the other players) Come and see the violence inherent
in the system! HELP, HELP, I'M BEING RETIRED! HE'S PUT ME OUT TO PASTURE...
Neeld: (letting go and walking away) Bloody PISSANT! You're CUT!
Green: Oh, what a giveaway! Did'j'hear that, did'j'hear that, eh? That's
what I'm all about! Did you see 'im CUT me? You saw it,
didn't you?!

 

[PureFooty]

PureFooty that was awesome. And I don't think it's just because i've had far too much to drink.

haha thanks, I got a good laugh making it as well

 

[tasmanlvr]

Mark Neeld is trying to evaluate the first half of the season. In the room are Neeld, Neil Craig, and for some reason Cale Morton.

Neeld: (on the first nine games) Boy, that escalated quickly. I mean, that really got out of hand fast!
Craig: It jumped up a notch.
Neeld: It did, didn't it?
Morton: Yeah, I got a few games
Neeld: I saw that! Cale got games! Did you bump someone?
Morton: Yeah, there were flags, and a man playing the trumpet, and I nearly killed a player with a soft bump.
Neeld: Cale, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. You should probably find yourself a safe house or a relative close by. Lay low for a while, because you're probably wanted by the MRP for that.

2009. Before the Richmond game.
Bennell: I mean come on, Dean, it's bullcrap! Don't get me wrong, I love Scully. I mean his form in the TAC Cup revs my engines, but tanking doesn't belong on the football field!
Bate: It is winning, not losing! And that is a scientific fact!
Morton: I don't know what we're yelling about!
Bennell: You're with us, Jake, what do you think?
Spencer: Shit! Sh-- it's terrible! Scully has beautiful eyes, and his hair smells like cinnamon!
Bennell: Mm-hmm!
Morton: Loud noises!
Schwab: Look, the AFL are not gonna take anyone's draft picks, okay?
Morton: [voice quavering] I heard somewhere being on television attracts Brock McLean. He can smell the revenge!
Bennell: [somberly] Well that's just great. You hear that, Cameron? McLean. Now you're putting the whole club in jeopardy.

 

[tasmanlvr]

Melbourne post match evalutation. Round 10, 2012

Neeld: You really want to know what beating Essendon feels like? (Leigh Brown nods his head, whispering "Yeah")
Craig: Yes! Tell us!
Royal: More than anything in the world, Mark!
Neeld: Well, it's really quite simple. It's kinda like... (singing "Afternoon Delight") Gonna find my baby, gonna hold her tight, gonna grab some afternoon delight. My motto's always been "when it's right, it's right", why wait until the middle of a cold dark night?
Everyone: (joining in) When everything's a little clearer in the light of day. And, we know the night is always gonna be here anyway!
Royal and Craig: Thinking of you's workin' up my appetite, looking forward to a little afternoon delight. Rubbing sticks and stones together makes the sparks ignite and the thought of loving you is getting so exciting, sky rockets in flight. Afternoon Delight.
Neeld: (stops singing) You guys have it.
Everyone: (singing) Afternoon delight!
Brown: (stops singing) I dunno, Mark, that sounds kinda crazy.
Craig: Sounds like you have mental problems, man.
Royal: [dreamily] Yeah, you got mental problems, man.
Craig: Yeah, it really does.
Royal: Man.
Everyone: Afternoon delight!

 

[Marlowe]

I'm just a regular everyday normal Melbourne Demons footballer - I don't have a girlfriend, my hands' my only lover.

I'm just a regular everyday normal Melbourne Demons footballer - one night a week my mum likes to cook me super.

I'm just a regular everyday normal Melbourne Demons footballer - and Michael Keaton was my favourite Batman.

I was walking down the wing just the other day, I saw these two fine footballers, they were running my way. "Yo, where you guys going in such a hurry?" . . Is what I wanted to say. But suddenly I panicked, my body started to shake, so I put my head down and I just walked away. I had a bus to catch anyway, it worked out great. Got on the bus, put my headphones on and pressed play: Cheryl Crow, James Blunt and mother****in' Ace of Base.

Yo, what can I say: it's just a day in my life. I'm up late in the morning and in bed late at night. To be unproductive at work, I can't be well-rested - yeah mother****er, you heard what I just said.


I'm just a regular everyday normal Melbourne Demons footballer - I don't like margarine, I much prefer the taste of butter.


I'm just a regular everyday normal Melbourne Demons footballer - my favourite movies as a kid were Superman and Ghostbusters


I'm just a regular everyday normal Melbourne Demons footballer - I have a hard time opening my eyes under water.


I'm just a regular everyday normal Melbourne Demons footballer - And I'm not a huge Nicholas Cage fan.

I'm not afraid to say that I'm a sensitive guy: "sticks and stones break my bones" but it's the words that make me cry. Like that time in round 3 when a guy called me stupid face. He really hurt me, why'd he call me stupid face? Is my face stupid? How's that even possible? A person can be stupid, but a face, that's impossible.

Shit happens all the time, and I never learn how to deal with it. Regular, everyday, Mark Neeld's ****ing bullshit.


I'm just a regular everyday normal Melbourne Demons footballer - when I get into a fight, I usually leave on a stretcher.

I'm just a regular everyday normal Melbourne Demons footballer - when I got nothing to say, I usually talk about the weather

I'm just a regular everyday normal Melbourne Demons footballer - I liked the first Back to the Future, but the second one was better.

I'm just a regular everyday normal Melbourne Demons footballer - I like red peppers better than the green ones.

Oooh, saving up my money for footy kicking lessons, mine went to shit about 6 years ago - mother****er!

 

[Wonaeamirri33]

Liam Jurrah now owns this thread.