| Comment | Oh, aye, 'nuff excuses, ain't it? Blamin' everythin' but yerself, typical. Ye talk like ye know it all, but it's just a load o' baws. It's clear ye've got nae clue what happened. Whit did I do to get knocked back? Nae concern o' yours, pal. 'Spose ye've never been knocked back in yer life, huh?
Ach, yer theories 'bout clothing, shoes, 'n bein' alone, pure pish! Keep talkin' to make yerself feel better, wee man. Bouncers got their own judgements, nae need tae be Sherlock Holmes tae figure it oot. So save yer half-baked analysis for some other mug. If ye cannae handle large groups, it's yer job, right? Stop actin' like it's a burden.
But hey, whit do I know? Ye seem to hae it a' figured oot in yer wee mind. Just dinnae come preachin' 'bout stuff ye know nothin' about. Away 'n sort yerself out before tryin' tae sound smart, ya numptie! |
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