Please pass this message on to the appropriate characteristics in your bar.
“Of course I don’t have any chewing gum”
I actually do you degenerate, but I know you’re too fucking stupid to realize that I’m going to lie to your face to get in.
So there’s no point asking me in case you didn’t notice.
Ask me about guns or drugs or something maybe next time I might actually tell you.
Why have you got so much attitude for?
You’re not that buff.
You come to Rococo because you know there’s a thousand men who are going to move to you and so that you can tell them to fuck off and carry on doing your hip moving bullshit.
Men are coming up to you because they think you are a slag because you dress like one. They don’t know that you’re out just for the attention like I do.
They’d move to an elephant in Rococo. What kind of a kick do you get from such low class attention?
Don’t give attitude when you get the attention that you came out for, or otherwise wear some clothes.
In summary, stop being an attention seeking whore.
Sorry, Bruv, for stepping on your shoe and distracting you away from your male gang bang.
I was pushed by another male gang bang.
My sincere apologies though. I didn’t mean to disrespect you and I genuinely hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.
I understand that you have no job, no future and no Gcse’s because you’re too stupid, and that you have loads of excuses for being such a fucking waste of a human being. So you want to feel that at least some one in this world shows you respect when they accidentally abuse your precious River Island shoes.
But on the plus side, these Rococo attention whores actually seem to like your style. You won’t get none but they’ll let you buy them a rose and take a picture with them.
You might find your wifey in there. They seem about as stupid as you. I’m sure you must have some really interesting conversations together in the smoking area.
I would also like to apologize that you will have difficultly reading this message and so my good friend Diary Of A Badman has kindly agreed to relay this message to you in terminology that you understand.
Apologies once again, and I hope you and the attention whore live happily ever after in Rococo heaven.
As I enter the club, I have only one objective. To hunt.
My reason for going shopping, finding nice clothes, wearing nice clothes, taking a cab and paying to enter this crowded room with loud music is not to stand at the bar communicating with males with a drink in my hand. No. What losers. Their mere presence is an insult to me, to know that I have to pay the same amount to be in the same vicinity as these mindless sheep who think that their night consisting of waddle dancing within a circle of men with their best shirts on is their concept of “fun.”
No. I am a wolf, and I’m here for my meal.
And for you men who have come out to look after and keep an eye out for your group of “best female friend circle”, don’t test me. You vermin are the people who disturb my sleep at night. Not because I worry that you may slightly delay my inevitable entrance into the insides of your female friends, but because you are lying to the world: You are not really a man. Your female friends severed your testicles off and strung them up to their waist belt so they can give them a little *squeeze* when they want some-one to buy their drinks.
Stay the hell out of my way.
And for you ladies, don’t fear me. I am the reason for you spending all that time to get ready and look so gorgeous. I love, adore and think of you all day. Your beauty astounds me and to me, is living proof that the world was created. It is a shame that these pathetic sheep men can’t see how stunning you are. You are my irresistible sweet lust and it is within my natural instinct to find, charm and seduce you.
I desire you.