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G-Man

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  • Gender
    Female
  • Location
    Glasgow.

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  • TA Club
    Saltire TA.

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G-Man's Achievements

  1. You nearly gave it away there. Me, you, Tidier, fringo, exile and giant Greg will make music in the valleys.
  2. Aaid if you think Ukraine vs Putin is bad wait till I meet you. That wee board is pure and unsullied, yes even by Fringo’s jokes. There’s no fuddery allowed on that board yet you’ve opened it up to some of the biggest. I’m not just sad Aaid I’m angry, very very angry. I now have to go and eat chocolate, drink whisky, listen to my musical god and as I’ve been doing for a couple of weeks reevaluate my ‘guilty crush’. To those in the know, Bobster now has 8 daughters.
  3. Or a morbidly obese alcoholic. Definitely one of those.
  4. Loving this phone, so far I’ve ‘met’ a drag queen and Jesus.
  5. I found this game phone last year and occasionally look at sites on it. I don’t know who this G-Man is but going through his photo album he’s a cracking looking transvestite or drag queen. 🤗
  6. Thanks Orra I missed that part. Sorry Updoon that’s me out. 😟
  7. I was called a “fucking twat of a cuntish dwarf.” last week in a supermarket car park so if you’d accept that as a reference pm me the date and how much pay you’re offering and I’ll check my diary. I notice you say “he”, I was mistaken for a drag queen in Tel Aviv so hopefully that’ll work for you too,
  8. Because I tried the *Candyman approach and looked in the mirror and called your name 5 times and you didn’t appear so I called you this way and heh ho, here you are. 😁😁😘 I’ve not seen Candyman for years so may have muddled it up with other scary as feck films.
  9. I wouldn’t mind mixed toilets as long as it was all cubicles. I didn’t know there were cases of children being given hormone blockers although I’m not surprised. In a world where people aren’t telling their new child’s sex so they aren’t ‘categorised’ my suspicion is more with the parents mental health than the child’s. Radio Scotland has a news report on a nursery in Edinburgh (of course it was) that no longer had gender defined toys or colours and then spoke to the parents who were all giving it “oh yes it’s fantastic. Horatio happily plays with a pram.” Then they spoke to wee Horatio and asked what his favourite toy was “I love the robot transformer, it turns into a car that shoots things.” Dad interrupts to say “But you like the tea set and Mimie doll?” I swear I could feel the puzzled slightly disgusted look Horatio gave the big drip as he replied “yeah okay but the čar shoots things.” My friend was born male but after years of misery, suicide attempts, psychiatric help and physical and mental abuse she was helped by the NHS to sort out a mistake that happened in her mother’s womb. She is now a gorgeous happy and settled wife and mum to her (adopted) son and she and her husband are foster carers. If she was a teenager today she wouldn’t have had to go through the nightmare she did have to endure but we’ve also discussed what would have happened to me. I hated being a girl, didn’t have girl pals, fought like a mad Taz devil and practísed blowing snot out my nose so I could do it when in goals for my school football team. And I won’t get into the batterings I received for constantly trying to pee standing up and succeeding only in making our toilet reek of pee. We think our friendship was cemented by our masculine and feminine characteristics and oddities but unlike her I never ever considered physically changing my sex I just didn’t want to be a girl. I was just a tomboy and I’d hate it if wee girls couldn’t just be tomboys without people jumping on it as sexual identity problems. But I’d detest it even more if we lived in a world where people don’t understand that things go wrong in the womb and they need to be sorted, understood and treated with the same understanding and sympathy that we give to all other ‘birth defects” (I use that term cautiously as I don’t like it but can’t think of another term. I’m sure you will thplinth and come along to tell me in your usual soft and tender manner) Stop it or I’ll challenge you to a peeing and snot blowing competition. Then the winner batters the loser and I’d hate to see you cry like a big lassie as I stand over your prostrate body with my foot resting on your hip and my arms held aloft while I make pretend crowd cheering noises. And I won’t be wearing lipstick! 😘😘
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