m8, you fockin wot?

wot the ♥♥♥ did u just say 2 me m8? i dropped out of newcastle primary skool i'm the sickest bloke ull eva meet & ive nicked 300 double deckers from tha corner shop. im trained in street fitin’ & im the strongest ♥♥♥♥♥♥ in tha entire 'castle gym. yer nuthin to me but a cheeky lil ♥♥♥♥'ed wi' a hot mum & fake bling. ill waste u and smash a ♥♥♥♥♥ bottle oer yer hed bruv, i swer 2 christ. ya think u can fokin run ya gabber at me whilst sittin on yer arse behind a lil screen? think again wanka. im callin me bruvs rite now preparin for a proper rumble. tha rumble thatll make ur nan sore jus hearin about it. yer a waste bruv. my bruvs be all over tha place & ill beat ya to a proper ♥♥♥♥♥ pulp with me fists wanka. if i aint satisfied w/ that ill borrow me m8s cricket bat & see if that gets u the ♥♥♥ out o’ newcastle ya daft kunt. if ye had seen this bloody ♥♥♥♥♥ mess commin ye might a’ kept ya gabber from runnin. but it seems yer a stewpid lil ♥♥♥♥, innit? ima ♥♥♥♥♥ fury & ull drown in it m8. ur in proper mess ya knobhead.