Reply With QuoteThis amusing series of mini biographies deserves to be printed out, photocopied and stapled together. Beyond that point I’m unclear on how to proceed.
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As many around here are aware, Gunman turned his back on Cardiff City shortly after the switch to red and vowed never to return to the fold while Vincent Tan remained as owner. But few know of the true reasons for why he switched to becoming a lover of all things egg.
His early life was unremarkable. A regular attendee at Ninian Park during his youth, his personality changed on hearing Gwnfor Evans' address as party President to Plaid Cymru's annual conference. From then on he embarked on changing the club's identity to a more Welsh one by petitioning every club chairman.
He did so with Vinnie too and was overcome with delight when the colour change was announced. He was convinced that his almost daily correspondence to him had at last born fruit. He wrote to praise him and urged he implement his other suggestions: that the club become Dinas Caerdydd FC, for its badge to feature a leek and nothing else and its nickname to be switched from the Bluebirds to the Boyos.
Vinnie responded to the incessant barrage by informing him his letters had had no bearing on his change to red and he had no intention of implementing his other demands. He concluded by using a polite form of words for 'please go and feck yourself.' He duly walked away promising never to return as he clutched a characteristic 99 ice cream with its Cadbury flake.
Gunman's hair started to recede aged 12 and before he hit 30 his hairline went farther back than the fecking Doomsday Book. He begun to paint his bald palate red on Wales international egg days and purchased a Max Boyce-like super-sized red and white scarf. He familarised himself with every Welsh rugby related statistic known to man. Soon he was observed in a variety of the capital's egging boozers such as Clwb Ifor Bach and the Queens Vaults where he and his Welsh nationalist fanatic chums would spend their evenings oggy oggy oggy-ing until stop tap.
What binds all Welsh eggers is the belief that Gareth 'eggy' Edwards is a living god and that Wales had the number one rugby team in the world between 1965 and 1980, despite getting turned over by New Zealand each time they met during that span. Gunman became similarly delusional and is so far gone he will argue that not only were the Pontypool front row the best pack trio during the 1970s but is also adamant they had the most curvaceous arses too.
As with every Cardiff-based egger, for Gunman a night on the razzle isn't complete without visiting Caroline Street to spew one's ring up. He's never shy about telling anyone prepared to listen that he has vomited to a distance of 11 feet three and three quarter inches.
This amusing series of mini biographies deserves to be printed out, photocopied and stapled together. Beyond that point I’m unclear on how to proceed.
Methinks Mr O Morgan has waaayyy too much time on his hands.
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