Penelope_Ghent
VIP Member
TD has responded calmly, quietly and very eloquently. 
- Notice
CEB1980
Well-known member
Newcomer here, I don’t post on Twitter, just read it. I’ve kind of been amazed to watch this unfolding. Sorry, long post coming…
context - I’m a left leaning (would previously have said very left wing) man who has worked in care homes and with vulnerable/disabled kids in poor areas, and have been living hand to mouth most of my life, but now am in a much more fortunate position - I reckon this maybe gives me a bit of perspective that a lot of those who follow Jack and are used to being well off don’t have?
anyway, I’ve never really been a “fan” as such - I think if someone asked me what I thought of her before yesterday, I’d have said “oh, she seems fairly decent, though I think she’s a rich person’s idea of a poor person, and I didn’t ever really relate to her when I could have done with cutting costs”. I might have added that her non-binary identity raised an eyebrow and gave me slight vibes of (before knowing she still claimed poverty “ah, now she’s not vulnerable due to poverty, she’s found a way to still be vulnerable“ - and I‘ve met plenty of those types in my life, where every anecdote they have is a hard luck story, and every falling out they’ve ever had was a great betrayal by someone else.
so, when I saw the Awfully Molly thread yesterday, after initially getting a “hmmmmmmm“ spider-sense tingle of bullshit from Jack’s blog, it was quite a rabbit hole.
(one thing that is working against that thread though - while starting with the origin story makes sense narratively, it meant the first few tweets were kind of disposable noise about class identity, the good stuff was after many floating voters might have noped out)
but the craziest thing is not the shit storm it turned into, but the reactions of her apparent friends and supporters. To me, it’s irrelevant whether Awfully Molly is Katie Hopkins, Jacob Rees Mogg, an automated bot, a “TERF” or whatever. It’s just that it’s glaring that whoever pointed it all out, her friends shouldn’t be validating her behaviour and celebrating her ensuing meltdown, but recognising what is actually happening. Again - I had no dog in this fight and I’ve been catching up on these threads and been fascinated. But my interpretation - knowing a lot about ADHD, task avoidance related to it, combined with financial insecurity - is that Jack has basically got herself into an almighty mess. I imagine those who have been here long term would say different, but it’s likely to me that at least some of her intentions, at least some of the time, were good, but that the easy option - especially once there’s a passive income, celeb mates, and self categorisation into several brackets that are untouchable among progressives - week to week, day by day, was to bullshit and believe herself that she’d sort it later. Then escalation happens, she loses track of lies, spends money for the buzz of it and that’s when the shit hits the fan, and she revisits the “I’m in poverty” identity. So why the hell are those who should be phoning/dm’ing/visiting her to stage an intervention upon realising that whatever the motives of the person revealing it, there’s clearly something not right, instead just doing the most superficial “be kind” stuff and not even acknowledging that they’re looking the other way? Rihanna Pratchett for example, literally saying “yep, seen the thread” as if that’s that then, no need to say “and I was unconvinced by the screenshots because…” - just blatant reality denial. Like until there’s a front page headline in a Sunday tabloid, the narrative can be controlled.
the reason I don’t post on Twitter is because I can argue til the cows come home and would get waaaay too drawn in, and this makes me glad I dont. I could understand defenders saying tenuous stuff like “ah, but the reason the gin thing isn’t contradictory is because when she’s writing her recipes she uses a bit of licence, you can’t use that as demonstrating meaningful lies” - but they’re just flat out acting as if Jack’s “I don’t need to dignify this” really is a response. It’s like behind the scenes a few well placed blue ticks/high profile accounts have agreed “what we;re going to do is go with the ’dont give it oxygen’ line, so please nobody actually get into actually defending her against specifics, because it’ll look crazy. Don’t defend it at all, and then there’s always the chance that there’s a great defence in Jack’s head that she just doesn’t have the spoons to post”
anyway, apologies for long post, but on my catching up I’ve seen a lot of people wondering what impact yesterday is having on newcomers: suffice to say, if Jack’s blog yesterday hadnt been so hamfistedly transparent then out of “I remember poverty” empathy, I may well have actually pinged her a fiver. Instead I’ve ended up with the suspicion that added to my morning routine will be daily checking progress on whether the grift really gets noticed, and she’s held to account,
context - I’m a left leaning (would previously have said very left wing) man who has worked in care homes and with vulnerable/disabled kids in poor areas, and have been living hand to mouth most of my life, but now am in a much more fortunate position - I reckon this maybe gives me a bit of perspective that a lot of those who follow Jack and are used to being well off don’t have?
anyway, I’ve never really been a “fan” as such - I think if someone asked me what I thought of her before yesterday, I’d have said “oh, she seems fairly decent, though I think she’s a rich person’s idea of a poor person, and I didn’t ever really relate to her when I could have done with cutting costs”. I might have added that her non-binary identity raised an eyebrow and gave me slight vibes of (before knowing she still claimed poverty “ah, now she’s not vulnerable due to poverty, she’s found a way to still be vulnerable“ - and I‘ve met plenty of those types in my life, where every anecdote they have is a hard luck story, and every falling out they’ve ever had was a great betrayal by someone else.
so, when I saw the Awfully Molly thread yesterday, after initially getting a “hmmmmmmm“ spider-sense tingle of bullshit from Jack’s blog, it was quite a rabbit hole.
(one thing that is working against that thread though - while starting with the origin story makes sense narratively, it meant the first few tweets were kind of disposable noise about class identity, the good stuff was after many floating voters might have noped out)
but the craziest thing is not the shit storm it turned into, but the reactions of her apparent friends and supporters. To me, it’s irrelevant whether Awfully Molly is Katie Hopkins, Jacob Rees Mogg, an automated bot, a “TERF” or whatever. It’s just that it’s glaring that whoever pointed it all out, her friends shouldn’t be validating her behaviour and celebrating her ensuing meltdown, but recognising what is actually happening. Again - I had no dog in this fight and I’ve been catching up on these threads and been fascinated. But my interpretation - knowing a lot about ADHD, task avoidance related to it, combined with financial insecurity - is that Jack has basically got herself into an almighty mess. I imagine those who have been here long term would say different, but it’s likely to me that at least some of her intentions, at least some of the time, were good, but that the easy option - especially once there’s a passive income, celeb mates, and self categorisation into several brackets that are untouchable among progressives - week to week, day by day, was to bullshit and believe herself that she’d sort it later. Then escalation happens, she loses track of lies, spends money for the buzz of it and that’s when the shit hits the fan, and she revisits the “I’m in poverty” identity. So why the hell are those who should be phoning/dm’ing/visiting her to stage an intervention upon realising that whatever the motives of the person revealing it, there’s clearly something not right, instead just doing the most superficial “be kind” stuff and not even acknowledging that they’re looking the other way? Rihanna Pratchett for example, literally saying “yep, seen the thread” as if that’s that then, no need to say “and I was unconvinced by the screenshots because…” - just blatant reality denial. Like until there’s a front page headline in a Sunday tabloid, the narrative can be controlled.
the reason I don’t post on Twitter is because I can argue til the cows come home and would get waaaay too drawn in, and this makes me glad I dont. I could understand defenders saying tenuous stuff like “ah, but the reason the gin thing isn’t contradictory is because when she’s writing her recipes she uses a bit of licence, you can’t use that as demonstrating meaningful lies” - but they’re just flat out acting as if Jack’s “I don’t need to dignify this” really is a response. It’s like behind the scenes a few well placed blue ticks/high profile accounts have agreed “what we;re going to do is go with the ’dont give it oxygen’ line, so please nobody actually get into actually defending her against specifics, because it’ll look crazy. Don’t defend it at all, and then there’s always the chance that there’s a great defence in Jack’s head that she just doesn’t have the spoons to post”
anyway, apologies for long post, but on my catching up I’ve seen a lot of people wondering what impact yesterday is having on newcomers: suffice to say, if Jack’s blog yesterday hadnt been so hamfistedly transparent then out of “I remember poverty” empathy, I may well have actually pinged her a fiver. Instead I’ve ended up with the suspicion that added to my morning routine will be daily checking progress on whether the grift really gets noticed, and she’s held to account,
TheDragonWithAFlagon
VIP Member
Opinion Piece;
Austistic People Lie. It's Kind of Our Flex.
Don't believe me? Offended? Well, listen...
You know when you're surrounded by irritating noises from colleagues, children, the photocopier making that slight screeching noise as it draws from the A3 drawer or fails to complete the full eight bars because somebody has thoughtlessly set it to copy an odd number of pages? And you have to ignore it and continue to answer the queries of the person on the phone who is talking outside, so you can hear that they're turning into the wind direction every few words? That's you lying. Lying that it doesn't set every nerve on edge and you don't really want to take a twenty pound sledgehammer to the fucking thing just to make the sounds stop.
You know when you look across your office to see the other person has just ripped a parcel open and let the contents poke out, rather than opening it properly, disposing of the horrible textured parcel tape that you know is making that packet a trap full of evil stickiness, clinging and noise, but you pretend it's not there because it's frowned on to tell then 'For the love of Christ, deal with the shit on your side of the room!'. That's lying. Lying that you don't hate every bit of the sound, look and remembered texture of a fucking parcel and it's making your skin crawl just at the knowledge that it's ten foot away from you being awful.
That person you wish would just disappear into a puff of smoke because they insist upon switching the sodding fluorescent lighting on when there is a perfectly adequate window that doesn't buzz, flicker or cast that yellow nastiness upon your retinas? But you keep quiet and wait until they go home before switching it off with a sigh of relief? Or you work on your blissful own and the tube goes, you conveniently forget to notify the site manager and are absolutely gutted when the cleaner or senior manager reports it so you come in to find the nastiness offending your existence. And say nothing other than perhaps a mild 'Oh, thank you. I do like daylight though, so you didn't have to trouble yourself'? That's lying.
That time when you get compliments about how nice you look, you smile and say thank you, but in reality, you're counting down the seconds until you can get those bastarding shoes and tights/socks off, get rid of the trousers with the waistband that you can feel touching you all the fucking time and just put on the lovely compression running leggings and crop top instead of the bra of evil? You're lying.
The time when somebody is ranting and raging at you and you're being all calm and professional, but in reality, you don't really understand why they are absolutely losing their shit at you when all you've done is your job and the Law literally says you have to do it this way? That's you lying.
How about when you get home to find that somebody has put the straightsided bowls on top of the teaplates in the cupboard instead of next to the curved sided bowls that took you ages to find because you needed ones that felt just right? And then they've gone on to put the teaplates in a random order instead of stacked in the perfect sequence? And you don't scream and yell at them because that would be somewhat unreasonable and unfair when you can just sort them properly yourself? That's you lying.
The time when somebody pushes in front of you at the bus stop and you let them go in front rather than call them a fucking arsehole, people were waiting before them and dumping them unceremoniously on their arse in the gutter? That's lying.
That glitch in the train station announcement when it cuts off the first bit of 'The train now approaching platform 2...' or even worse, the mispronunciation of the destination on the bus because it's done by computer generated speech from a bank of sounds, rather than what the locals have been calling the place for centuries? And you don't bang out a raging email to TfL because much as you'd like to, you know that 'normal people' aren't bothered by these things? That's you lying.
Every moment something happens that jumps right on every single nerve in your body, every single person that you pause and think why might they be responding in that way - and adopt a well rehearsed script that you've learned always works? Lying.
What about when there's something awful happening like a car accident and instead of fear taking hold, you find yourself focused and clear and able to follow the rules of first aid including checking your own safety before going to help? So you look like an amazing person when you just went onto automatic and did what needed to be done? Lying.
That time when you would really have preferred your line manager tofuck off to the far side of fuck and then fuck off some more rather than interrupting for the third time and you want to tell them that you'd get that urgent stuff done a whole lot faster if they would only stop fucking with your head and let you get on with it in your way? But you take a deep breath and pick up the phone, smile at them as they pitch up at your desk or yet another fucking email pops up when you're already trying to recompose your head and thought after the first two interruptions from them? That's right - you're lying.
And when you filled in that job application and went to the interview knowing that you had to convince people who don't know you that you're actually a functioning adult who is able to work well alone and as part of a team, you're organised, professional and committed to continuing professional development when you are so fucking drained at the end of the day, you just want to sit at the top of a hill and breathe in fresh air whilst looking at green stuff or lie down in a darkened room with no bloody TV, lights or even the knowledge of your OH existing because he's used that deodorant that makes you want to hurl? But you don't tell him that his presence is driving you to silently scream FUCK OFF AND HAVE A SHOWER YOU ACRID TOSSER, you try to tolerate it or take yourself off to the bath where you switch the light off to lie in the water, only to have him switch the fucking things on again 'because it's getting dark'? You've guessed it, you're lying.
If you haven't found those things drive you to absolute distraction, if you are thinking 'how can a parcel on somebody else's desk be a problem? Just don't look at it' or 'I get anxious at interviews as well' or 'why are you so angry? You're completely overreacting, there are still seats on the bus' or 'I like taking my bra off when I get in from work as well, you know' without comprehending just how a thousand of these items a day gets into your head so you're so wound up that you can't sleep or you make jokes about if anybody needs you, you'll be under the desk rocking for the next hour (and will tell somebody who makes that joke 'well, actually, that's very ableist, you shouldn't say offensive things like that'), you're probably not autistic.
Only it's not called lying. Which is annoying. The term people use isn't right. It's one that should refer to spray painting or something like a superhero movie baddie. The twee term that's used instead? Masking.
Masking is lying. And it's what you do when you're autistic and trying to get through every day without getting punched (as a kid, largely, but not always), fired or divorced.
Autistic people 'mask' means 'Autistic People Lie'. And we're fucking brilliant liars. We've been doing it our whole lives. It's how we stay under the radar as much as possible, how we just about survive school, getting jobs, having relationships. The cat knows us as we really are. A dog can spot us at a hundred yards. And if we like them and we've learned their body language and communication, the feeling is mutual. Because they don't fucking lie and we don't have to lie to them. Moreover, they don't fucking patronise us by saying shite like 'Austistic people don't understand jokes' and 'Autistic people literally cannot lie'. Fuck off. We just don't think that malice, cruelty and spite (which is the undercurrent of the majority of humour) is funny (we've been on the receiving end of it often enough) and we lie every single day of our lives.
We're just so fucking good at it that you don't notice us 90% of the time.
Austistic People Lie. It's Kind of Our Flex.
Don't believe me? Offended? Well, listen...
You know when you're surrounded by irritating noises from colleagues, children, the photocopier making that slight screeching noise as it draws from the A3 drawer or fails to complete the full eight bars because somebody has thoughtlessly set it to copy an odd number of pages? And you have to ignore it and continue to answer the queries of the person on the phone who is talking outside, so you can hear that they're turning into the wind direction every few words? That's you lying. Lying that it doesn't set every nerve on edge and you don't really want to take a twenty pound sledgehammer to the fucking thing just to make the sounds stop.
You know when you look across your office to see the other person has just ripped a parcel open and let the contents poke out, rather than opening it properly, disposing of the horrible textured parcel tape that you know is making that packet a trap full of evil stickiness, clinging and noise, but you pretend it's not there because it's frowned on to tell then 'For the love of Christ, deal with the shit on your side of the room!'. That's lying. Lying that you don't hate every bit of the sound, look and remembered texture of a fucking parcel and it's making your skin crawl just at the knowledge that it's ten foot away from you being awful.
That person you wish would just disappear into a puff of smoke because they insist upon switching the sodding fluorescent lighting on when there is a perfectly adequate window that doesn't buzz, flicker or cast that yellow nastiness upon your retinas? But you keep quiet and wait until they go home before switching it off with a sigh of relief? Or you work on your blissful own and the tube goes, you conveniently forget to notify the site manager and are absolutely gutted when the cleaner or senior manager reports it so you come in to find the nastiness offending your existence. And say nothing other than perhaps a mild 'Oh, thank you. I do like daylight though, so you didn't have to trouble yourself'? That's lying.
That time when you get compliments about how nice you look, you smile and say thank you, but in reality, you're counting down the seconds until you can get those bastarding shoes and tights/socks off, get rid of the trousers with the waistband that you can feel touching you all the fucking time and just put on the lovely compression running leggings and crop top instead of the bra of evil? You're lying.
The time when somebody is ranting and raging at you and you're being all calm and professional, but in reality, you don't really understand why they are absolutely losing their shit at you when all you've done is your job and the Law literally says you have to do it this way? That's you lying.
How about when you get home to find that somebody has put the straightsided bowls on top of the teaplates in the cupboard instead of next to the curved sided bowls that took you ages to find because you needed ones that felt just right? And then they've gone on to put the teaplates in a random order instead of stacked in the perfect sequence? And you don't scream and yell at them because that would be somewhat unreasonable and unfair when you can just sort them properly yourself? That's you lying.
The time when somebody pushes in front of you at the bus stop and you let them go in front rather than call them a fucking arsehole, people were waiting before them and dumping them unceremoniously on their arse in the gutter? That's lying.
That glitch in the train station announcement when it cuts off the first bit of 'The train now approaching platform 2...' or even worse, the mispronunciation of the destination on the bus because it's done by computer generated speech from a bank of sounds, rather than what the locals have been calling the place for centuries? And you don't bang out a raging email to TfL because much as you'd like to, you know that 'normal people' aren't bothered by these things? That's you lying.
Every moment something happens that jumps right on every single nerve in your body, every single person that you pause and think why might they be responding in that way - and adopt a well rehearsed script that you've learned always works? Lying.
What about when there's something awful happening like a car accident and instead of fear taking hold, you find yourself focused and clear and able to follow the rules of first aid including checking your own safety before going to help? So you look like an amazing person when you just went onto automatic and did what needed to be done? Lying.
That time when you would really have preferred your line manager to
And when you filled in that job application and went to the interview knowing that you had to convince people who don't know you that you're actually a functioning adult who is able to work well alone and as part of a team, you're organised, professional and committed to continuing professional development when you are so fucking drained at the end of the day, you just want to sit at the top of a hill and breathe in fresh air whilst looking at green stuff or lie down in a darkened room with no bloody TV, lights or even the knowledge of your OH existing because he's used that deodorant that makes you want to hurl? But you don't tell him that his presence is driving you to silently scream FUCK OFF AND HAVE A SHOWER YOU ACRID TOSSER, you try to tolerate it or take yourself off to the bath where you switch the light off to lie in the water, only to have him switch the fucking things on again 'because it's getting dark'? You've guessed it, you're lying.
If you haven't found those things drive you to absolute distraction, if you are thinking 'how can a parcel on somebody else's desk be a problem? Just don't look at it' or 'I get anxious at interviews as well' or 'why are you so angry? You're completely overreacting, there are still seats on the bus' or 'I like taking my bra off when I get in from work as well, you know' without comprehending just how a thousand of these items a day gets into your head so you're so wound up that you can't sleep or you make jokes about if anybody needs you, you'll be under the desk rocking for the next hour (and will tell somebody who makes that joke 'well, actually, that's very ableist, you shouldn't say offensive things like that'), you're probably not autistic.
Only it's not called lying. Which is annoying. The term people use isn't right. It's one that should refer to spray painting or something like a superhero movie baddie. The twee term that's used instead? Masking.
Masking is lying. And it's what you do when you're autistic and trying to get through every day without getting punched (as a kid, largely, but not always), fired or divorced.
Autistic people 'mask' means 'Autistic People Lie'. And we're fucking brilliant liars. We've been doing it our whole lives. It's how we stay under the radar as much as possible, how we just about survive school, getting jobs, having relationships. The cat knows us as we really are. A dog can spot us at a hundred yards. And if we like them and we've learned their body language and communication, the feeling is mutual. Because they don't fucking lie and we don't have to lie to them. Moreover, they don't fucking patronise us by saying shite like 'Austistic people don't understand jokes' and 'Autistic people literally cannot lie'. Fuck off. We just don't think that malice, cruelty and spite (which is the undercurrent of the majority of humour) is funny (we've been on the receiving end of it often enough) and we lie every single day of our lives.
We're just so fucking good at it that you don't notice us 90% of the time.
Marmalade Atkins
VIP Member
sleepingsatellite
Chatty Member
*chef’s kiss*
beigeloafer
New member
New person here. Hello.
JM has long irked me but mostly because of just how she is, with her whole commie, Tory-hate, giving-herself-every-label-under-the-sun thing. I had no idea of the grift levels until I fell down this Tattle hole after someone posted a link on Twitter. I’d never even heard of Tattle before the latest pity blog.
As a TT volunteer I’m used to JM being worshipped as some kind of deity and I only ever hear praise for her (which always grates) but I don’t know how I will control my face next time someone there mentions her.
Anyway, I just wanted to say hello and thank all the fraus for giving me a laugh; you’re all very amusing and I’ve chortled out loud at many of the fifty-four thousand posts I’ve read in the past 72 hours. Cheers!
JM has long irked me but mostly because of just how she is, with her whole commie, Tory-hate, giving-herself-every-label-under-the-sun thing. I had no idea of the grift levels until I fell down this Tattle hole after someone posted a link on Twitter. I’d never even heard of Tattle before the latest pity blog.
As a TT volunteer I’m used to JM being worshipped as some kind of deity and I only ever hear praise for her (which always grates) but I don’t know how I will control my face next time someone there mentions her.
Anyway, I just wanted to say hello and thank all the fraus for giving me a laugh; you’re all very amusing and I’ve chortled out loud at many of the fifty-four thousand posts I’ve read in the past 72 hours. Cheers!
DisgruntledGoat
VIP Member
Frauen, Herren, if you go to the replies of this tweet in the Awfully Molly thread…
Someone has posted screenshots of slumlord grandad’s probate
I know it’s been mentioned here but it’s shocking to see it in black and white. Two things:
1 - I’ve never had a grandparent who owned property (lol) so never had this issue but is that total just the cash he has left or does it include the value of his properties?
2 - this is definitely Jack’s villain origin story. I would bet ~£1.8 million~ that her dad told her she couldn’t have any inheritance until she pulled herself up by the bootstraps to show she was capable of managing it and boom, a monster.
Someone has posted screenshots of slumlord grandad’s probate
I know it’s been mentioned here but it’s shocking to see it in black and white. Two things:
1 - I’ve never had a grandparent who owned property (lol) so never had this issue but is that total just the cash he has left or does it include the value of his properties?
2 - this is definitely Jack’s villain origin story. I would bet ~£1.8 million~ that her dad told her she couldn’t have any inheritance until she pulled herself up by the bootstraps to show she was capable of managing it and boom, a monster.
First time poster, I've been lurking since 2020!
If this is the end, I'll actually be really sad. Of course I was outraged when I read her blog post, but a part of me *loved* it. I loved seeing how the lies were getting bigger, I was outraged at the donations coming in, but the thought of the giant scandal growing even bigger just made it all worth it.
It was exactly the same when Nigella asked her followers to support Jack! Oh my god what a scandal, but no one I knew actually cared..!
Reading these threads is like being part of a little club, where we all know a huge secret but no one else does. I'll be sad if it all ends.
I don't particularly enjoy seeing Jack being found out. I think she's a ridiculous person and an outrageous liar, but I don't want to see her suffer. The amount of personal information she's broadcasted over the years means that I feel like I know her now (which is obviously weird to say).
I can't be alone in feeling these mixed emotions, right?
If this is the end, I'll actually be really sad. Of course I was outraged when I read her blog post, but a part of me *loved* it. I loved seeing how the lies were getting bigger, I was outraged at the donations coming in, but the thought of the giant scandal growing even bigger just made it all worth it.
It was exactly the same when Nigella asked her followers to support Jack! Oh my god what a scandal, but no one I knew actually cared..!
Reading these threads is like being part of a little club, where we all know a huge secret but no one else does. I'll be sad if it all ends.
I don't particularly enjoy seeing Jack being found out. I think she's a ridiculous person and an outrageous liar, but I don't want to see her suffer. The amount of personal information she's broadcasted over the years means that I feel like I know her now (which is obviously weird to say).
I can't be alone in feeling these mixed emotions, right?
SmillieKylie
VIP Member
Oh Squig, brilliant 
veronica71
VIP Member
pretty much sums it up
Veronicaaa
VIP Member
OMG she's in touch with her lawyer. Of course.
Blimey, didn’t know she was autistic. That’s a first.
Ok, so we don’t want you dead, Jack. Don’t be ridiculous, that’s like a threat from a teenager. Just stop taking money from people and lying. That’s all.
Just for the new members - Tattle is a place to discuss Jack. We don’t tweet at her, and definitely don’t post here that we’ve tweeted at her. Please also don’t post screenshots of the dead grandad’s will here either, best not to muddy the waters.
PS - Molly, if you’re reading, for the greater good, don’t mention the walruses.
Ok, so we don’t want you dead, Jack. Don’t be ridiculous, that’s like a threat from a teenager. Just stop taking money from people and lying. That’s all.
Just for the new members - Tattle is a place to discuss Jack. We don’t tweet at her, and definitely don’t post here that we’ve tweeted at her. Please also don’t post screenshots of the dead grandad’s will here either, best not to muddy the waters.
PS - Molly, if you’re reading, for the greater good, don’t mention the walruses.
Cucumberthunder
VIP Member
Oooooh, maybe we'll get a big reveal today?!
Our own "...Rebecca Vardy's account" moment
traumatised sideboard
VIP Member
I don't want you dead you silly twat, I'm locked into a rolling contract on slopbot.com. What do you expect me to do, get a real job instead of lampooning you? Don't think so pal.
