Fuckin 'ell Satan you twat, I just nearly pissed in my pants.

aye, but they're all at it now:

"Norwich were playing away at Plymouth and so we couldn't resist the chance to do over that ćunt Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. We got to River Cottage early doors, but his lot were nowhere to be seen. So we set fire to his herb garden, chucked his pig in the river and then as a parting shot I shat in his microwave, before leaving a message on his answerphone claiming a result and off we went. Mind you, we regretted it later when he turned up our manor tooled up with Gary Rhodes and that ćunt who used to be the Galloping Gourmet...."

 

Quality!