A few ponderings for the disgusting little smackhead who tried, but ultimately failed, to break into my car this afternoon:
1. As a smackhead, you are by default already the lowest of the low - paedophiles and serial rapists look down upon you with disgust, and your mother probably disowned you years ago if she hasn't already died of shame. But what's actually more amusing, is that when it comes to being a horrible, dislikable, robbing little cunt (not a particularly tough task when you put your mind to it) you failed not once, but what looks like over thirty-times. Even your fellow baghead companions can't bear to look you in the eye right now; such is the extent of your almost super-human feableness.
2. The particular method of breaking into my car you selected is not particularly complicated or scientific. Generally speaking, the process of throwing a brick through a car window requires very little strength, and even less brainpower. Yet you were still lacking in both respects. Perhaps if your regular heroin intake hadn't caused all of the major blood vessels in your arms to collapse you may have had more luck, so as a word of fatherly advice, next time why not stick your filfthy needle elswhere? The big toe's a nice spot, so I hear. Expert tip: make sure you get some air in there, it really adds to the 'kick'.
3. What really impressed me though was the way that having completely and utterly failed in your attempt to get into my car, you set to strategically smashing up the door and side-panel with aforementioned brick, apparently just to piss me off. Of course, what you do not realise is that losing my 'whopping' £50 insurance excess is absolutely no great shakes to me, for I am an immensely wealthy man who opted for doing something with his adult years as opposed to setting up camp as an utter scumbag and injecting unknown substances (Clue: HIV is one of them) into my own body, whilst laying unconscious, stewing in a pool of piss, shit, and vomit - perhaps some of it not even my own. In fact, it fills me with great pleasure this evening to know that my television has a larger surface area than your entire, makeshift, shop-doorway home, and has the added bonus of not smelling of piss, nor does it contain over 400 unique traces of human (and fuck it, who knows, animal?) semen.
And so, in summary, a big fucking well done to you - you absolute, 100% bona fide little bell-end. I shall sleep well tonight, in my large, warm bed, safely in the knowledge that you only know the first three letters of the alphabet thanks to your familiarity with Hepatitis, and that when the AIDS finally comes a-knocking, that you will fail to overcome that just as spectacularly as you did the 1-inch thick piece of glass in my passenger window.
My girlfriend just randomly started screaming at me for no reason.
"YOU PUT ME SECOND TO EVERYTHING! SECOND TO YOUR FRIENDS, YOUR JOB, EVEN YOUR FUCKING PS3! I'M SICK OF BEING SECOND-BEST!!"
I said "Well that would make you 4th best, you thickcunt."