Ash Hope

I appreciate this and thank you - first, I came for professional loyalty, and then I came to cynicise someone's mental health issues. Save your energy for worthwhile exchanges. Peace and love.

Thanks for accepting that, as much. Count my risk assessment as leaving out anything I didn't know about you and allowing you to (insert whatever you want, here). I couldn't possibly personally attack someone who is anonymous, never mind someone I could take my time to find out about. Which is why I'm now leaving this conversation, entirely. With no bad blood, not personally, because I don't you know from Aaron.

The key tenet was about personal attacks. Journalists do homework and research when they write articles : https://thirteenrugby.com/2021/02/18/my-struggles-with-anxiety-and-grief-took-me-to-the-brink-but-after-learning-the-importance-of-talking-it-wont-define-me-anymore-itsokaytotalk/ Disagree with an opinion, sure. Disagree with mine. But research a man before you make wild assumptions about his personal life or family, more for your own sensibility and image - if anything else.

You got me here, guilty as charged. All those hours spent digging for interviews for any positive story from El Salvador to Africa were all to totally hold the sport back. I didn't want it to ever get to the Elon Musk-funded Super League years of rugby league on Mars or Saturn. What can I say I just love the M62 corridor so darn much. Adiós anyway, fellow Earthling. I've donated more than enough time to the internet today. Tell everyone I'm off to go shout verbals at my local under 11s grassroots team, while they train - it's your narrative from here.

Surely you didn't take mine literally? No human has furry fingers, no?

Thanks for sharing my work

I fully submit as, of course, you are the ultimate judge of internet content. 4/10 from you is a high compliment, indeed. Many thanks, dear oracle of the keyboard. PS: I no longer live in Brighouse. I live under a mouldy office chair in my Auntie's heroin dungeon. Something like that, whatever you wish to satisfy your image of me. I do hope the spirits of personally targeted journalists don't visit you in the night.

Worzel, however self-identified and indicative might be a misspelling of the word 'weasel' - it would appear. I can imagine you, opening up your laptop - after seeing an article from a journalist trying to make his way in a world plagued by negativity (a man commissioned to write articles and not necessarily the beholder of his own autonomy or creative license). I imagine how, in spite of how the article might have touched a tribal nerve that is engrained deep into your DNA like the final stitch of your team's jersey, you have decided to make bold assumptions on the alcohol behaviours, family situation and relationship history of a journalist who wrote something you didn't like. I can imagine your weasel-like furry fingers relentlessly grinding and hammering at the crumb-covered keyboards in your (insert family situation) as your (insert relationship situation) is drowned out by your (insert your chosen vice). I can imagine a clouded irony as you write a Dickensian-style opening to besmirch and tirade a man who has, in your own judgement, brought dark clouds upon a world you see so purely and positively. If only... If only... You had captured such utopian ambition and optimism in a post that encapsulates your hope and treasured prosperity for the sport you dearly love so much. Instead, you just did what the man you bastardised so personally allegedly did - in wasting your own waining time in attacking the status quo. Well he got paid for it, and you cashed in a couple of internet chips on your ego like a depressed dopamine-chasing gambler in Las Vegas. Enjoy your jackpot.

I remember calling out my granddad for saying Hull City played at The Boulevard for a while saying he was losing his marbles. How wrong I turned out to be