Quote Originally Posted by Dark Soldier
Just the beginning, for now. It gets more in depth and serious later on.

September 20th 2009

“And then I ate the aborted foetus and fucked her in the arse!” Mazuurk sat reminiscing his recent rape exploits , basking in the glory and adulation of the more lurid members of The Third Half. It was the second TTH meet, and everyone had got up off their scabby arses to meet and greet each other. James sat on his lonesome, pen on paper, a poem of forlorn misanthropy in the works, a fringe of greased hair masking his pale complexion. Pabs wandered around in a daze, his cock grinding against doors to the delight of Baz, Mahow and other cretinous beings. Harold and Henry sat facing each other, locked in heated debate over trivial matters far too inane to go into detail over here. Luca was on his portable decks, spinning tunes of cheese to this disdain of all and sundry. The Dutch committee were together, a borked language bringing humour to whoever had the pleasure to overhear.

Around a table were Dav, ScousePig, Jimmy, Yev and Mellin, football debate on the go, locked in their own in no way homoerotic world. Saint stood with Tool, Spikey and Lewis, who, at an actual meet, were discussing TTH issues without seeing the blatant retardation of such actions. Zink was following Mert everywhere, drooling, his eyes transfixed by Turkish arse. SG was alone with his only companion, The Guardian, a smug look of self satisfaction beaming across his virginal mug. Ital, Fry and Shindig together, videogame discussion going back and forth, hands on cocks at the mere mention of game collections. IJ and DM were patrolling like overlords, keeping their eye on everyone with faux authority.

Magpie on lemonade, Joe Joe and Boltonmassiv in a battle of miniscule intellect, R One and Smiffy stoned, monotonously killing every brain cell they ever had. The Aussies, Elth and Queenslander walking on their hands to acclimatise to England. It was a surprisingly joyous place to be, drinks flowing, laughs being had, until it happened, Manc Sean stepped through the door, drunk beyond recognition, with none other than Celebrity big Brother cretin Terry Christian in tow, arms around each other.

“Oi Oi ya cunts!” shouted Sean, cock out, piss dribbling in his wake. Everyone turned to look, seeing a shambles of a bloated buffoon and his annoying twatcunt of a companion. Terry Christian headed towards the table of footballing minds, picking up a chair on the way, smashing it over Yev’s head for no particular reason. Everyone stood in unison, seeing this scene of unnecessary violence. Mellin dived over the table, pinning Terry down, head butting the fuck out of him. Dav and Jimmy gave Terry sly kicks to the scrotum before running backwards like the hooligans they are, waving their fists at no one in particular. Suddenly, Joe Joe punched Massiv hard in the face, knocking him to the floor, his pristine hair still locked in gayness. Within seconds, it all kicked off, Elth and Queenslander with didgeridoos, like B-Movie lightsabers. Zink forcefully kissing Mert who seemed to actually be enjoying the sexual attention.

Harold and Henry were stood tall, together in drunken unison, seemingly confused by what was going on with a repetitive chant of “YOU DIRTY CHRISTIAN BASTARD!”. The landlord looked on in horror, rapidly dialling 999, reporting the carnage. The scene resembled a Roman Shower porno, vomit, blood and piss everywhere, faces being stamped on, egos crushed, yet despite this, Saint still postured in his own effeminate way, broken English insults being launched at a rapid rate. The sirens were drawing closer, arriving just as Jimmy got chucked through the pub’s window. The police got out of their cars, immediately enraged at the sight of Jimmy. “He’s black! Fucking get him!” They steamed in on poor Jimmy, batons smashing his ribs and body as he protested his whitehood. “Don’t give me that ya Yardie scum, stop fucking resisting” Jimmy’s arm was still outstretched, a rolled up newspaper in his hand. “He’s got a fucking gun! Taser the cunt!” As Jimmy’s body was rocked by electricity, his will to fight gave in, cradling him in darkness. Satisfied with their job, the police entered the pub, gunshots fired into the ceiling as TTH regulars stopped, looking up, envisioning a world of hurt. All except Zinc, his penis forcibly stretching Mert’s mouth who was blacked out due to pleasure.

It was intended to be a peaceful meet up. A friendly affair. Then came the quintessential bedroom hooligan . A single riot that led to prison stretches for everyone involved. And so it came to pass that the now infamous Terry Christian Riot of 2009 led to a new chapter in the disturbed history of TTH.
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