Your continual referencing of
@davek only further illustrates how much he's in your head mate. Any more and we will an exorcism.
The root of our ills are ladbible loving, BBC Live text celebrating, Football Manager playing under thirty Geordie gimps who were raised on entitlement and no appreciation of hard work and patience.
You were brought up with Santa bringing you Playstations and gratification being a clique of a button away, whereas we had to comb corpy parks for waterlogged pages of Razzle or pretend we are 18 and pluck up the courage to buy a jazz mag from somewhere in town lest you're recognised on home soil.
Your self celebratory neediness is subject always to the want of recognition and reward. Without it you are hollow and insecure messes.
Sadly you're proficient in social media due to being brought up with it and like any teenager the neediness comes out with the way you have to express yourselves while disregarding humility.
Your myopic opinion lets you all down though, it drops the mask as you're generally hyperbolic and clueless when it comes to anything regarding perception, and notably in this case football. You regurgitate controversial opinions offered up by dull pundits as you mistake this for carrying presence. You're too young and full of spunk to realise that the wiser man doesn't rush in and instead gauges things and has an appreciation of the development of things rather than eagerly seeking to praise or ruin anything new or in current affairs, lest they look silly.
Silly is something you're not concerned with as long as it gets you noticed and retweets. This craving for attention and adoration without hard work blights your entire generation. Coupled with the misconception that your opinion is highly valued is the reason I label you the X Factor generation.
You belong in the Lower Gwladys where we can laugh at your continual state of fume. "Its just not good enough" for your football club, for a train being seven minutes late, for the barista in your artisan coffee shop getting your order wrong. How dare they disappoint you? Do they know how valuable you are? How dare Everton ruin your weekends! Have they not seen your struggle outlined in the story of your sleeve tattoo? Despite being 22 and still living rent free with your mother.
Did that cover the root of ills?
tldr: it's you, you little barely into pubes needy pant pissers.
