Old Muggy Malone. Sat in his bedsit wearing a string vest and a pair of Che Guevara y-fronts. I do sort of feel sorry for you, Muggy. You are as sad as that 'Stop Brexit' oaf. You are to be pitied.
Ole Muggy Malone doesn't sleep. He blooters through (fake) Cuban rum whilst ripping the heid aff it thinking about Bob Crow. Some life.
