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If I tried to tackle Lomu he would reach out with his free hand and pop me like an annoying little zit. But I'm thinking that just maybe my broken, limp body might get tangled up in his legs and trip him up. Then, a la KNVB, I would trash talk him from the ground. "What the fcuk you looking at Lomu you big, puffy tart" I would say while giving him the finger as the air ambulance lands on the field. Then, while in the hospital waiting room and on serious painkillers I'd get the nurse to push me around so I could question people incoherently with stuff like, "Have you seen Walks? How about Beaker? Did you know that Leeds are right fcuked but Fastshow hasn't been for ages and that TheRob misses his caboose and Guinness only knows one song. Noooooooooo? Ah, you're all facking cnuts". After I was surgically repaired with the latest technology I would make a storming return as Dasixmilliondollarpotato and the fcuking endorsements would roll in like yellow cards at a 'lomas game.
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HAHA!
One of the best posts I've read in a while.
I wish I had an imagination
