I hate that Piggu thinks I'm the original 2tough

I hate that is it me :o
I hate to learn that DRZ is the feared vCash thief.

I hate the annoying Circuit City pop-up that I keep getting. Now when I buy my Fresh Prince DVD's, I'm buying them at Best Buy.
I hate that I was reading this and was about to beat the living shit out of Piggu when...


I got in one little fight and my mom got scared
And said youre moving with your aunte and uncle in bel-air

I whistled for a cab and when it came near the
Licensplate said fresh and had a dice in the mirror
If anything I could say that this cab was rare
But I thought now forget it, yo home to bel-air

I pulled up to a house about seven or eight
And I yelled to the cabby yo, home smell you later
Looked at my kingdom I was finally there
To settle my throne as the prince of bel-air

I hate that I'm not too familiar with this 2tough dude.

I hate that I only have 111 posts on this thread

I hate that I was reading this and was about to beat the living shit out of pigguwhen...


I got in one little fight and my mom got scared
And said youre moving with your aunte and uncle in bel-air

I whistled for a cab and when it came near the
Licensplate said fresh and had a dice in the mirror
If anything I could say that this cab was rare
But I thought now forget it, yo home to bel-air

I pulled up to a house about seven or eight
And I yelled to the cabby yo, home smell you later
Looked at my kingdom I was finally there
To settle my throne as the prince of bel-air
I hate that you obviously aren't talking about me.

I hate that you obviously aren't talking about me.
I hate that you didn't notice the edit.

I hate that you didn't notice the edit.
I hate that I'll let it slide this time.

I hate that I only have 111 posts on this thread
I hate that at least you haven't abandoned this thread like so many others.

I hate that I'll let it slide this time.
I hate that I'll still have to beat your brains in because you're no longer "piggu".

I hate that at least you haven't abandoned this thread like so many others.
I hate to admit that posting on this thread is fun.

I hate that I'll still have to beat your brains in because you're no longer "piggu".
I hate it too. WE NEED TO RAGE AGAINST BPP!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S HIS FAULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I hate it too. WE NEED TO RAGE AGAINST BPP!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S HIS FAULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I hate that BPP won't answer me!

I hate that BPP won't answer me!
I HATE THAT THAT IS EXACTLY WHY IT'S HIS FAULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I HATE THAT THAT IS EXACTLY WHY IT'S HIS FAULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I hate that I can't change your custom title now.

I hate that I have a terrible headache that won't go away. It didn't go away even after I took an 1 and a half long nap. And drinking water makes my head hurt worse.

And I am very lightheaded .

i hate trolls.......

I hate everyone who posted in this thread before me

Bye

I hate everyone who posted in this thread before me

Bye

I hate everyone who posted in this thread before me

Bye

I hate everyone who posted in this thread before me

Bye

i hate myself for being handsome. :mad:

i hate today because I spent ALLLL day at home, damn I wanted to kill myself of boredom I actually miss working full time

I hate that I'm bored!!!

I REALLY hate the person who posts after me

I REALLY hate the person who posts after me
I hate that I wanted you to make an avatar for me.

I hate that I'm going to ask, ok of what you got a picture you want me to work on? GOSHH!! I ****in hated saying that :mad: :mad:

I hate that I'm going to ask, ok of what you got a picture you want me to work on? GOSHH!! I ****in hated saying that :mad: :mad:
I hate to tell you to look for pictures in my user profile.

I HATE EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU ****S :davil2: :fu2:

I hate you more than you hate me

I hate to tell you...are you serious??? lmao

i hate me too

I hate you too

I hate every last one of us too....

I hate that you are #1 in posts here

I am home.

I hate your guest username

I hate the dumbass above me that just triple'd post

I hate the dumbass above me that just triple'd post

I hate that you better be joking

I hate the dumbass above me that just triple'd post
I hate that you're calling my alt a dumbass!!

I hate that you're calling my alt a dumbass!!

I hate that your quoteing your alt's alt :mad:

I hate that your quoteing your alt's alt :mad:
I hate that all three of us is the same guy.

I hate that all three of us is the same guy.

OH MY GOSSH!!! I SOOO ****ing hate that I'm a loser that'd never amount to anything!! :mad: :mad: :mad:


ps, just ****ing with you man lol :D

i hate myself for posting here!

i hate myself for posting here!


ohhh we ALLLLLL ****ing hate you bitch!! :mad: :p :D

i hate myself for posting here!
I hate that Pinoys don't post in this thread enough.

I hate 2tough :arabia:

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I hate that I gave you bad karma when I tried to give you good karma.

I hate that I gave you bad karma when I tried to give you good karma.
Ihate when that happens.

i hate why pinoy don't post here enough!

I hate not being Pinoy or Limey.

am i hearing things ? I hate that there is some kind of indian music playing whenever i try to post here in this lounge.

i hate when your not allowed to see your own kid you know?

am i hearing things ? I hate that there is some kind of indian music playing whenever i try to post here in this lounge.
I hate that Immortal imbeded music in his post.

i hate when your not allowed to see your own kid you know?
I hate that too.

i hate music that i don't understand!

I hate that Immortal imbeded music in his post.


for real though. Do you hear indian music ? it's only in the lounge. Where the hell is it coming from ?

for real though. Do you hear indian music ? it's only in the lounge. Where the hell is it coming from ?
It's coming from Immortal's posts. Quote his post and you will see.

I hate that i cant stop this music.

I hate that i cant stop this music.
Turn off your speakers.

I hate how people don't appreciate ray charles a little more, looking at piggu's signature makes me want to bow at that man's life

damnnn I hate how this thread is sooo dead

i hate that Life's a trip
Heard you just turn 17 and finally got some hips
Hustlers on the block go crazy when you lick your lips
But they just want relations, they dont want relationships
(Welcome to the real world)
It aint the same
Fellas old enough to be your daddy know your name
Everybody's talkin bout how much that girl dun changed
Cant quite put your finger on it but you feel it's strange
Like's it's fire in your vains

The block is packed
Baby got an additude and proud to holla back
Momma's giving advice but she aint tryna hear that
Not because its wrong, just her delivery is wack
(Shay, get your butt in this house, if I see you with another boy, I swear..)
Life is rough
You say that your not ready for sex but you're in love
He says if you really loved him, you would give it up
Momma says thats just a line guys use to get you're stuff
Which one will you trust?

damnnn I hate how this thread is sooo dead
I hate that you need to visit this thread more. A few nights ago it got like 400 hundred more posts. No joke.

I hate when they ban my alts

I hate when they ban my alts
I hate that next alt I make, I'm not going to tell people who it is. That defeats the purpose.

I hate that next alt I make, I'm not going to tell people who it is. That defeats the purpose.
all depends on the purpose

I hate dental appointments!

I hate that tonight is way too slow here at BS.

all depends on the purpose
My alts purpose will be too spam non-stop.

I hate dental appointments!
i hate that i havent been to the dentist in over 5yrs...ugh

I hate not knowing my DRZ was banned.

I hate not knowing my DRZ was banned.
I hate that too, WTF?

I hate warm beer

i hate not being in bed

i hate not being in bed
with fiesty wench.....

I hate that: DYNAMITE-DYE-92 has exceeded their stored private messages quota and can not accept further messages until they clear some space.

I hate that: DYNAMITE-DYE-92 has exceeded their stored private messages quota and can not accept further messages until they clear some space.
I hate that you really give a ****.......but you probably don't.Just hating in the hatered thread right?

I hate that you really give a ****.......but you probably don't.Just hating in the hatered thread right?
I hate that he suspected I was a girl. I guess that it just kinda bothers me that some people have full inboxes for weeks.

I hate that he suspected I was a girl. I guess that it just kinda bothers me that some people have full inboxes for weeks.
I hate cleaning my inbox........but do often.I get a shit load of PMs......mostly from certain posters I chat with often but still....

I hate cleaning my inbox........but do often.I get a shit load of PMs......mostly from certain posters I chat with often but still....
I hate that I usually just sweep everything out. Except for that PM I got from Hous. That could come in handy one-of-these-days.

i hate that im so bossy.

I hate that my thread asking why DRZ was banned was erased. That's like the 3rd thread on that subject to disappear.

i hate that piggu cant believe me because i cant remember anything about this site.

i hate that piggu cant believe me because i cant remember anything about this site.
I hate that you should read your PM's.

i hate that piggu cant believe me because i cant remember anything about this site.
I hate that it's Piggu with a capital "P" now.

I hate that RAESAAD TURNED NEXTROCKY RED!!!!!!!

i hate that i have a n00b custom title and cant get access to my points.

i hate that i have a n00b custom title and cant get access to my points.
I hate that Custom Titles are all sold out anyway.

i hate that i have a n00b custom title and cant get access to my points.
I hate that I don't care if you are an alt of someone I like or not I feel like telling you that you suck..........

I hate when people don't understand that I own this thread.

I hate that RAESAAD TURNED NEXTROCKY RED AND POPPED HIS CHERRY!!!!!!!
:eek: oops...I did not know. :dunno:

:eek: oops...I did not know. :dunno:
It's all right my karma is all healing. I'll take care of it.

McClellan's tragedy will not deter his former sparring partner
Milwaukee Journal, The, Feb 27, 1995 by PETE EHRMANN

A Milwaukee professional boxer who helped Gerald McClellan prepare for his ill-fated fight with Nigel Benn said Sunday that what happened to his longtime friend would not deter him from pursuing his own dream of boxing greatness.

Marnyx Stamps, 26, is 7-2 as a professional middleweight.

From early January until McClellan left for England 10 days before the Benn fight, Stamps served as a sparring partner for the friend he had known since the age of 13, at McClellan's training camp in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.

Stamps said he didn't think the McClellan-Benn fight would last longer than three rounds, and that McClellan was confident of winning, too.

"He told me, `There's no way in hell I'm not gonna be able to walk through Nigel Benn. Hitting Nigel Benn is gonna be like hitting a baby,' " Stamps said.

Stamps, who has not had a fight in more than a year, said McClellan had promised to help him get his career going.

"I want to fight," Stamps said. "I've got about eight more years in me. I don't drink, smoke, do drugs, and have never been in any kind of trouble."

McClellan is not the first friend of Stamps' to suffer a life-threatening brain injury in the ring. In 1988, when Stamps was a member of the US Marine Corps boxing team, a fellow Marine suffered a blood clot on his brain after getting knocked out.

"He was in a coma for about three months," Stamps said. "When he finally got out he was broccoli. He was paralyzed. I don't know if he's still living.

"I'd be lying if I said I don't think about it. But it's kind of like the hero and the coward. Both got fears, but the coward will run and the hero will stand up and do what's necessary."

Another local friend of McClellan's, Wisconsin heavyweight Lyle McDowell, said what happened to McClellan "shows you how serious boxing is. You should be in tip-top shape, and take nobody for granted."

McDowell (12-2-1), who was stopped in his last fight by heavyweight contender Buster Mathis Jr., said, "I hadn't thought about it till last night," when asked if he worried about getting hurt in the ring.

"There is always the possibility you can get hurt if you get hit enough," McDowell said.

Al Moreland, the Milwaukee boxing coach and promoter who got Gerald McClellan started in the amateurs when McClellan lived in Milwaukee 11 years ago, said he still hoped to present McClellan with an award as "Wisconsin Fighter of the Year" at his boxing club's annual dinner in May.

"I still call him a Wisconsin boy," Moreland said, "and everybody knows that Gerald McClellan, bar none, was one of the best champions in boxing."

i hate piggu for this :blackeye:

i hate piggu for this :blackeye:
I hate that I own that smilie as well as this thread.

i hate that rockin changed his name and now he isnt actually rockin anymore. i hate that versatile is so versatile :cool:

I hate that I own that smilie as well as this thread.


i hate that i have been here longer then u so i own it. you can have the thread :blackeye:

i hate that i have been here longer then u so i own it. i can have the thread :blackeye:
I hate that in a matter of days I will have hit 1000 posts in this thread.

i hate that i have been here longer then u so i own it. you can have the thread :blackeye:
i hate that i can give you another black eye if you dont get yo act together.

i hate that rockin changed his name and now he isnt actually rockin anymore. i hate that versatile is so versatile :cool:
I hate that he just changed it today.

McClellan's tragedy will not deter his former sparring partner
Milwaukee Journal, The, Feb 27, 1995 by PETE EHRMANN

A Milwaukee professional boxer who helped Gerald McClellan prepare for his ill-fated fight with Nigel Benn said Sunday that what happened to his longtime friend would not deter him from pursuing his own dream of boxing greatness.

Marnyx Stamps, 26, is 7-2 as a professional middleweight.

From early January until McClellan left for England 10 days before the Benn fight, Stamps served as a sparring partner for the friend he had known since the age of 13, at McClellan's training camp in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.

Stamps said he didn't think the McClellan-Benn fight would last longer than three rounds, and that McClellan was confident of winning, too.

"He told me, `There's no way in hell I'm not gonna be able to walk through Nigel Benn. Hitting Nigel Benn is gonna be like hitting a baby,' " Stamps said.

Stamps, who has not had a fight in more than a year, said McClellan had promised to help him get his career going.

"I want to fight," Stamps said. "I've got about eight more years in me. I don't drink, smoke, do drugs, and have never been in any kind of trouble."

McClellan is not the first friend of Stamps' to suffer a life-threatening brain injury in the ring. In 1988, when Stamps was a member of the US Marine Corps boxing team, a fellow Marine suffered a blood clot on his brain after getting knocked out.

"He was in a coma for about three months," Stamps said. "When he finally got out he was broccoli. He was paralyzed. I don't know if he's still living.

"I'd be lying if I said I don't think about it. But it's kind of like the hero and the coward. Both got fears, but the coward will run and the hero will stand up and do what's necessary."

Another local friend of McClellan's, Wisconsin heavyweight Lyle McDowell, said what happened to McClellan "shows you how serious boxing is. You should be in tip-top shape, and take nobody for granted."

McDowell (12-2-1), who was stopped in his last fight by heavyweight contender Buster Mathis Jr., said, "I hadn't thought about it till last night," when asked if he worried about getting hurt in the ring.

"There is always the possibility you can get hurt if you get hit enough," McDowell said.

Al Moreland, the Milwaukee boxing coach and promoter who got Gerald McClellan started in the amateurs when McClellan lived in Milwaukee 11 years ago, said he still hoped to present McClellan with an award as "Wisconsin Fighter of the Year" at his boxing club's annual dinner in May.

"I still call him a Wisconsin boy," Moreland said, "and everybody knows that Gerald McClellan, bar none, was one of the best champions in boxing."
I ****ing hate this post

I hate that in a matter of days I will have hit 1000 posts in this thread.


i hate that i will force myself to hit 15,000 in post in less the 2 months jus for the hell of it if i can :cool:

I hate that I still remember when RAESAAD gave me bad karma for the hideous picture I put in the useless thread.

For Exige:

Chris Eubank is more famous now for his flamboyant dress sense and reality show antics. But this former champion boxer who won the World middleweight title against Nigel Benn in 1990 has added another string to his bow, that of raconteur.

On Sunday July 4th, Eubank will be appearing in his one-man show Swindon's Wyvern Theatre. Hopefully the trademark monocle and stick will be all present and correct as the great man waxes lyrical in his typically verbose style about his varied life and career.

Highlights will include recollections of his early life where he was suspended 18 times then expelled from Thomas Carlton secondary school in South London.

After being placed in various institutions by social services he spent 18 months living on the streets.

At the age of 16 his father took him to America where he took up boxing. He went on to become one of the UK's most successful boxers and to date, out of 25 World Championship fights, he only lost five fights. He also holds the record for the most unbeaten World Title wins in British history.

He made enemies along the way and his feud with Nigel Benn who he memorably defeated in 1990 was legendary. He was also the man who dealt the crushing blow to Michael Watson in the WBO super-middleweight title fight in September 1991 which left him critically injured.

Since retiring from the ring Eubank has become something of a TV personality. His pretentious, arrogant, lisping persona has been endlessly imitated and for a time he was regularly in demand on the chat show circuit. The tabloids have also followed his antics over the years and he has been plastered over their pages for making citizen's arrests, protesting at the war in Iraq and cruising the streets of Brighton where he lives in his Peterbilt truck.

Recently he was the first to get the boot in Celebrity Big Big Brother in 2001 and this reality show turn led to Channel 5 offering him his own fly on the wall show At Home with The Eubank's.

Love him or hate, you can't ignore Chris Eubank and his appearance at the Wyvern on July 4th looks set to be an entertaining one. Tickets are priced at £14.50 and can be obtained in advance from the theatre box office on 01793 524481.

i hate that me and ??? used to have the same number of post and now i dont know what happend to him, and versatile has surpassed me by 3000.

http://img177.imageshack.us/img177/4972/eubankandauctionwin01nx1.jpg

i hate that jack the snitcher keeps havin these long ass post that im not gonna read.

i hate that me and ??? used to have the same number of post and now i dont know what happend to him, and versatile has surpassed me by 3000.
I hate that ??? is now Speedy Ninja.

jack is kewl :D i hate sundays because i have to work

I hate that this is funny cause it's true: Several Celebrities Have Been Seen Wearing Red Kaballah Bracelets.

For Those Of You Who Don't Know, Kaballah is An Ancient Form Of Publicity Invented By Madonna.

i hate that i got a new phone and am confused on how to use it :o

Fighting for life

Nigel Benn's 1995 world title victory over Gerald McClellan brought all the contradictions of boxing together in one moment of clarity. It was beautiful and ugly, thrilling and frightening. And in the decisive round, those who saw it knew the intensity had gone too far. This is the real story of the night that left a fearsome fighter irreparably brain-damaged

Kevin Mitchell
Sunday November 4, 2001
Observer Sport Monthly


In Las Vegas in 1994, when Gerald McClellan was preparing for his rematch with Julian Jackson, the one-eyed hitter he'd stopped the year before to win his world middleweight title, he was in his hotel room. He was bored, anxious. He got a video out and slipped it in the machine. The fight was only a few hours away. It was the biggest of his career. There was nobody about and the world champion settled down to get his kicks.
As the tape rolled, Stan Johnson, McClellan's coach, knocked on the door.

'He's some guy,' Stan recalls. 'I think he'd be in his room before a fight, gettin' a little pussy or somethin' before he go to the fight ...well, Gerald be in the room this time watchin' tapes of dog fights. I thought he be watchin' a sex movie. But I goes into the ****in' room, Gerald's got a tape of himself watching the dogs with a stockin' over his head where you can't see who he is - in case somebody find the tape no one know it's him!'

This is how Stan saw Gerald and the whole dog thing: 'So he got this black Labrador, just went to the dog shop, told the man, "I need a dog to take care of, I'll take this Labrador home," and the man say to the dog, "Yeah, you got a good home now," and Gerald takes the dog home. He takes the dog down his basement and tapes the Labrador's mouth, takes his pit bull Deuce and says "Get him!" He lets Deuce start eatin' the dog up while he's timing it on a watch, see how long it would take his dog to kill this dog. And I said to Gerald, "Hey, Gerald, this Labrador wouldn't beat Deuce, no way, so why did you tape his mouth shut?" And he said, "Coz I just wanna see how fast my dog would kill him, for one, and, for two, my dog's a championship fighter and you don't need no dog scratched up and bit up by no dog, by no accident. This is like sparrin' for my dog, this is like my dog need to taste blood every day. My dog need to kill somethin' every day, Stan. Just like a fighter need to spar every day, he don't need nobody bustin' him up when he got a big fight comin' up. He just need to bust somethin' up hisself. Right?"'

It was impossible not to be mesmerised by the rhythm of the telling, and by the tale itself. It was a kind of rapping, old-style ghetto cool-speak, all mixed up like a cheap stew, bits of profanity chucked in to pepper it up. Comfort language served up by a badass dude.

Gerald got his comfort between the sheets. Any time of the day or night.

'It was nothin' for him to get some pussy just time afore he go in the ring, even, you know? So that was the main problem with Gerald, it was girls was his problem. But Gerald had a dark side to him, because he was a violent, violent, violent, violent, violent person.' I had to check: that was five 'violents'. Stan was just making sure.

'His whole life was about fightin' and all, pit bull dogs, he pay lotsa money on dog fights, he took money from his fights and he bet. It weren't nothin' him go down the projects in Chicago and bet $10,000 his dog beat your dog. And a bunch o' gang bangers with guns and drugs all come down to watch...'

Donnie Penelton, the Black Battle Cat, he remembers the dogs. He was there too on those dark nights.

'Yeah, Gerald's my first cousin. We grew up together. I'm older than him, and from the age about three, four, he hangin' around buggin' me from about then, yeah. He was a nice, young scary kid. He was a maniac with the pit bull dogs, man. He was like one hisself. Very aggressive. Very crazy. He had like a yard full of pit bulls. We'd mostly take 'em to Detroit with us, to the camps. I didn't like watchin' them dogs fight like that, I guess ...Kinda difficult, but them dogs, they goin' to fight naturally anyway. You know what he say, though? He always say, "Goddam, if I gotta fight for a livin', I be damned if them dogs ain't gotta fight for a livin' too. I gotta buy 'em their food. If it's a big fight and they win, they oughta be buyin' their own damn food."

'He brought Deuce down to fight this guy's dog in Chicago one time, and me and Donnie, we went down there with him ...Gerald was drivin' his Mercedes Benz, a green car with caramel-coloured seats and he had this big, beautiful truck behind where he carried his dogs in cages. So Deuce, he winnin' this particular fight and all of a sudden the dog got on him and he started rippin' Deuce's throat out. So I'm kinda, like, lookin' at Gerald and I was seein' the 'spressions on his face, you know, and just as his dog was gettin' beat, Gerald told the dude, "Stop the fight!" And the dude said, "No, man. No, man, you started the fight." And Gerald says, "You stop this mother****in' fight! Stop the fight! I quit, here your money."

'Gerald had a nice green leather suit on, he picked his bloody dog up, threw his dog across his shoulder, blood run all down his ****in' coat. Instead o' puttin' him in the truck, in the cage, he put him in the back seat o' the Benz, mad as hell, rubbing his dog, cryin' up and down the road, tellin', "I ain't never gonna do this shit no more, I don't know why I did this, I keep a mess o' snakes afore I put a dog through this again." You know?

'Yeah, Gerald he had some companionship about this particular dog. He'd raised this dog, and this dog, he'd killed a few. This ****ing guy, man, once his dog lost a fight and he was $7,000 down. He turns around, he looks at me, and the other guy says, "Hey, you want to wash your dog off before you put him in your truck?" Gerald just pulls a nine-millimetre out of his back pocket, aims it at the dog's head, busts a cap to the dog's head, and says, "Put that mother****er in a plastic bag. I don't need 'em if they can't fight no better than that. I don't need no mother****in' dog that can't fight." This the kinda guy he was...'

I knew before I started that some of this story wasn't going to make easy listening, but this kind of information was confusing. It was not just hard-core boxing stuff; it was the sound of streets I didn't really know. But Gerald and Stan felt at home there. So did Tyson. Listen to Iron Mike's angrier outbursts: he is shouting at the largely white world and he is saying, I'm going home to the streets and you can't come. It's the place that Don King calls home. He's another big hitter comfortable with the argot.

Gerald wasn't a million miles from Don King in his attitude to humanity. King had brought grief - and money - to a lot of lives. He was cold too. Gerald hadn't killed anybody, as King had, but he had that streak in him, an icy vein of ruthlessness. He had to have it. He knew what was demanded to survive in the 'baahxin' bizness'. If you didn't have a hard outside, they'd eat away at your insides and spit you out. That's one thing he learnt from King.

Gerald was not shy of conflict. Used to go looking for it, often. It was part of his protective shell. Getting in the ring and throwing his well-schooled punches for three, regulated minutes per round was a run in the park for Gerald - after all he'd seen outside boxing. His personality was not informed by his trade, but by his life at large. The boxer is just the product. A celebrity. Television packages him and sells him. The G-Man. The Dark Destroyer. Iron Mike. The Hit Man. The Beast. Midnight. Vicious. The Black Battle Cat. Nightmare. All names invented to disguise the man underneath, not describe him.

I could only wonder what else they got up to. Stan, unsurprisingly, had a million stories.

'We in Florida one time,' he says, 'we in trainin', just before we go to fight Nigel Benn. Gerald says, "You wanna go to the mall to do some shoppin'?" So we go to the mall with the champ to do some shoppin', and we come outta the mall, and in Florida you got these pretty little pelican birds, what you call 'em? Flamingos, that's it. They just walk around the mall tryin' to make it look pretty. But Gerald comes out, and says, "Right, watch this, watch this!" And there's this flamingo walkin' around on the road. Gerald gets close and makes a dip with the car, he speeds the car up real bad and - boom! - he hits the damn flamingo! And the flamingo flies up all over the grille! And Gerald, he's laughin', like it's all in Disneyland, and he goes flyin' round the block and he looks at the grille and he looks at the bird feathers and he pulls the bird feathers and pulls the bird outta the grille, and, it's like, "Damn! Did you all see that? Did you all like that?" And then he was on his way out - and you know, you can go to jail for doin' that sort of shit, you know? That's a state bird! You know what I mean?'

I know what you mean, Stan.

'So then Gerald goes around again! He already run over a couple of pelicans and then here come another pelican and you know, like, this mother****in' pelican must be wonderin' what's goin' on here, like? He must be like a brother or sister, like, they all busted up. And then Gerald, he says, "Look at this nosy sonofabitch, watch this." And - bam! - he rammed over that one. I said, "Gerry, you gotta stop this, man, we gonna go to jail." And he tried to make it look like it's an accident, that the bird was there, like ...The kid was a violent kid. He loved killin' shit, he loved dog fights, like it was evident, he was want to go out like he went out...'

Like Deuce. Except he made Deuce quit.

25 February 1995: Benn v Mclellan

The fight is brutally dramatic from the first round, when Benn is felled after just 35 seconds and falls out of the ring onto television monitors. The count is very slow, with Benn given fully 13 seconds. Remarkably, he is able to box on, and despite being under severe pressure responds with some fearsome punches of his own. From the second round, McClellan realises something is wrong, he has trouble breathing and his right hand, which has given him trouble in the past is very painful. At the end of the sixth, according to his sister Lisa, McClellan returned to his corner and said, 'I wanna quit, Stan.' Johnson denies this. McClellan had never been past round eight in a fight. By round nine the fight was already a brutal, savage classic.

Only now did it dawn on me that we were watching two men careering towards the ultimate sacrifice. This had not been a prospect I had dwelt on in any of the previous rounds. To this point, it had been a collision of undeniable intensity, perhaps the 'best fight' most of us there had ever seen live, but contests between two dangerous punchers such as these invariably end in a countout, negating the possibility of death. Here in the ninth, however, doom cloaked the night. It was as if it had gone too far and nobody could do anything about it. The finish the crowd secretly craved was now a real possibility. Our own inner fight was with our guilt.

It seemed that McClellan was in the greater trouble. It also looked as if he were aware of his predicament. Benn, on the other hand, was hurting physically but his head, although constantly pounded, was clear enough for him to navigate his way through this terrifying jungle of pain. His brain was in place.

At ringside, we had the luxury of reflection, however brief, and could wonder about the morality of seeing Benn and McClellan risk dying for money and a title. There are moralists who will say that is a question we should be asking before rather than during a fight. But we don't. We surrender to our weaknesses.

If there is any morality in boxing, it surely resides inside the ring. That is where the honesty is. Elsewhere, in words and contracts and skullduggery, lies the profound sinning.

The final round

Albert: 'Nigel Benn hoping that he got a second wind between rounds ...A left hand by McClellan!'

Ferdie Pacheco (TV commentator): 'The only way McClellan can lose this fight ...well, he can lose it many ways ...but one way he can lose it is to be cautious ... He can't give it away. He's gotta fight.'

Albert: 'A confident Gerald McClellan. Benn just looking to hang on.'

Nigel lands another heavy right. McClellan is in serious trouble. That right has spun him into another zone. He is the one hanging on. It all starts to untangle now, halfway into the tenth. Nigel sweeps a right over the top of Gerald's injured head. Gerald goes down on his right knee. He rests his left glove on his other knee. He looks up at referee Asaro, who is counting. In French. 'Un! Deux!'

Time slows. Light is everywhere. McClellan is alone in a public place. Yet he is strangely serene. Relaxed, almost composed.

'Trois! Quatre!'

Pacheco: 'Gotta get up.'

'Cinq! Six!'

Pacheco: 'Now that is the strangest knockdown I've seen.'

Gerald gets up at seven. Walks into Asaro. Holds his gloves out. The referee looks at them, rubs them on the fighter's shorts. Lets him loose. Gerald's eyelids are working hard now, like a butterfly in a storm.

Nigel speeds another right on to the top and back of Gerald's head.

Albert: 'Everybody's on their feet, 11,000-strong!'
Benn shoots an uppercut, then a short, stiff right. Every punch is zeroing in on the danger area around the temple. McClellan is gone. He takes another half-blow and goes on that vertical slide, like an elevator smoothly travelling to the basement. He comes to rest on his right knee. Strikes the same pose as only seconds before. As does Asaro. With one minute and 35 seconds left, the referee starts to count again.

'Un! Deux!'

It is done without ceremony or emotion. This is Asaro's role.

'Trois!'

Benn walks to a neutral corner, casually, like Joe Louis used to do. Like Joe, Nigel is used to seeing men fall before him. Except Gerald is kneeling. Waiting for something to descend around his shoulders, a veil of light.

'Quatre! Cinq!'

But the young American, getting older by the second, is not easy with the time-out this time. There is no peace in it. His body is shutting down. He blinks, gasps, gulps in the air. First time, he looked up at Asaro. Now he looks only at the canvas. Asaro has nothing to communicate to him now, nor has Gerald anything left to say. He just has to wait.

'Six! Sept!'

Asaro uses both hands, all 10 fingers, palms facing his own chest. He is shouting at McClellan. Gerald will wait until Asaro has stopped shouting before he moves again.

Benn shifts in from the corner a couple of feet to have a closer look at his prey, thin legs boyishly balancing a fighting man's body. His gloved hands are still coiled in tension. He's counting too. He counts and hopes. He hopes Gerald will not get up. If he does, he has work left to do. If he doesn't, the roof is going to blow. Everybody in the building is counting. The world has gone into super slo-mo. The noise has ebbed. Maybe a yard from McClellan, I can see the figure of Don King in his dinner jacket, standing, two hands resting on the ring apron, and screaming at his man. I turn my head slowly back to McClellan, a half-naked, totally defeated fighter.

'Huit! Neuf! Dix!'

Asaro crosses his arms and waves them in the accepted manner. It's over.

In a frozen moment, McClellan's right knee lifts from the canvas, Benn's knees dip, he spreads his arms wide, accepting the embrace of the crowd.

The whole room goes out of control. Inside the ropes, the canvas is covered instantly in expensive, shiny shoes. Fat rich men jostle for the spotlight vacated by the fighters; outside, row upon row of the mob move and shout as one. They high-five and laugh the smile-free laugh of the cruel voyeur. They are drunk on violent conclusion. They have thrown their last inner punch and they will soon be deflated.

The energy in the ring has travelled through the night like electricity to the crowd, who, collectively, could probably provide the material for a very acceptable orgy or riot, so high are they. This is what they paid for, this is why they came to Docklands when they could have watched the fight at home on television. This is why we fight and why we watch others who fight. At the moment of victory, you do not have to ask the question. In fact, the question is never asked. We just know.

what brand?????

The mob is at one with Benn. The champion's eyes roll, he screams with the wild joy of the conqueror...

Albert: 'Nigel Benn has won!'

Pacheco: 'I can't believe that!'

Albert: 'One of the most bizarre endings to a fight. One of the most compelling fight nights you'll ever see!'

Benn went up on to the second strand of the ropes, in his own corner. This was the place he'd gone back to nine times, after each round of scheduled torture. Now it was his place of celebration. He was waving his right glove at the crowd. There was anger, retribution and a fierce kind of happiness on his face. He screamed - but at nobody in particular. He'd shown us. Like Ali. He'd proved them wrong. He shook up the world.

And now, without turning away from the darkness, Benn pointed his glove dismissively in the direction of the spent challenger, whom he could not see because of the enveloping confusion in the ring. Stan and Donnie were wiping Gerald down - there was only blank resignation on the beaten man's bruised features. And, from where I sat, what looked like the cold fear of resignation.

Fighters can hate each other, physically, for half an hour or so, and then they're as close as is possible outside romance. But Nigel didn't move towards Gerald's corner, as convention dictates. There would be no ritual hug here. No warrior recognition. Nigel was in his own zone.

What I did not see during his celebration was a hint of a smile. His body message was triumph in battle, without a peace treaty. It was ugly and it was beautiful. He'd overcome. He was Superman.

Gary Newbon approached him with his ITV microphone. Benn set himself for another confrontation. He was still high on the fight, and he would stretch the joy of victory as far as it would go. Scientists have recently discovered that the winner in a fight has hyper-testosterone levels, while the loser's testosterone count drops. Darwin would have argued this prepares the winner for mating, and saves the vanquished from himself, reducing his will to fight, so that he will withdraw, perhaps to fight again later.

Benn might have been ready to mate, but he was extending no fraternal warmth to the man in the suit coming towards him. Newbon was in a sweat. He'd had his post-fight interview rows with Benn before, but it wasn't that which concerned him. It was the general air of confusion, and the plight of McClellan. The uncontrolled shouting and general shoving was not helped by King's superactive sidekick, Mike Marley. Marley, a former New York boxing writer who had crossed over to the promotion side, was waving his hands about, pointing to TV people, to journalists, to trainers and various hangers-on. King stood about with a slightly comical regal air, waiting, as ever, to be interviewed. He occasionally looked towards McClellan's corner. Frank Warren was in the ring too, and subdued. He could see that McClellan was badly hurt.

Newbon tried to calm Benn, to capture the excitement with dignity. The TV clock was running down. Newbon had to ask his questions before the ads kicked in. He started to tell Benn how great he was, how he'd defied the odds. He wanted him to listen then respond with a few appropriate soundbites, as is the deal when TV is paying the freight. But Benn doesn't do soundbites or platitudes.

'Nigel,' Newbon began, 'that was not only your greatest performance, that was one of the greatest boxing performances of all time in this country.'

'Yeah, well, all you lot were geeing him up, giving it this, giving it that. I knew he wouldn't be able to go the distance...'

Benn, never looking at Newbon, broke off to wave his still-gloved fist again at the simmering crowd. 'Yeah!' he shouted.

'But Nigel . . .'

'No, no, you listen to me! I'd like to thank my trainer, Kevin Sanders. Everyone sayin' we ain't goin' anywhere without Jimmy Tibbs. Proved him wrong. And not only that, the person I'd like to thank most of all is Paul McKenna, who hypnotised me and made me believe in myself.'

Newbon, fearing a roll-call of everyone Benn had ever known in boxing, tried again to ask another question. Nigel would not be silenced.

'No, no. You listen to me. I'm always listenin' to you.'

They came to a muddled compromise and Newbon attempted to talk Benn through some highlights. But Gary started to lose it. As he swung around towards McClellan's corner, he said, 'Mike McCallum's actually very badly hurt and they've got a stretcher in here, Nigel. I'm sorry. Mike McClellan. Gerald McClellan. Sorry. I'm getting confused here.'

It was all unravelling. Mike McCallum, the world-class middleweight, had fought on the undercard. Newbon, who had his producer yelling corrections down his earpiece, motioned Benn away from McClellan's corner, where they'd been standing. And still there was no sensible dialogue between fighter and interviewer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Newbon had seen that McClellan had slipped from his stool and was lying on his back. His producer told him to get on with the interview and Newbon looked towards the board doctor to see if it was all right to continue. 'Gary!' shouted his producer. 'Get on with it!'

Benn had either not heard Newbon telling him about McClellan or had ignored it. 'No, mate. They only brought him over to bash me up, mate. I'm gonna say what I want to say. Let me tell you that now. They only brought him in to bash me up, mate. No chance ...no chance ...no chance...'

Benn was oblivious to everything and everyone, including McClellan. He only wanted to talk about the fight. At that moment in his life, it was his courage and his victory that defined him. He would allow nothing to intrude on that. 'I don't care if you knock me down, I was ready to go with him. Whatever he wanted to, I was going to match him. All the way, mate. All the way. Now you might start believin' in the Dark Destroyer. I'm number one. Second to no one!'

Benn's eyes had dimmed from wild to steady. Trance-like, even. He was still darting hard glances around the ring, only half-listening to Newbon, who had tried to signal to his production people to finish the interview as the ring descended into unmendable chaos.

'We're going to wrap this interview here, Jim, because we've got a serious problem with Gerald McClellan.'

Newbon was hoping the director would pan back for a final summing-up from Jim Rosenthal. The show had gone on long enough for Newbon. He was visibly affected by the fight and by Benn's responses and McClellan's collapse.

'It was terrible,' Newbon said later. 'My director wasn't really aware. Not his fault. So I'm saying, "This is serious, this is really serious." Everyone got a bit het-up and then we all realised there was a problem. We went into long-shot to get off the air.'

Benn turned away without ceremony. King touched his gloves in a gesture of congratulation, but Benn was not going to be soft-soaped by the promoter he reckoned had wanted him beaten.

Rosenthal, up in the gantry, wound it all down and the credits rolled over some of the key action. McClellan was still lying in his corner. The medics had gathered and the ambulance driver had his engine running outside the arena...

McClellan comes round in the ambulance and rips off the oxygen mask. Disorientated but briefly revived, he says to Johnson, 'What the **** happen? I got knocked clean out, didn't I?'

Johnson squeezes Gerald's hand and tells him what he does not want to hear: 'No, man. You didn't get knocked out. You went down to one knee and you walked back to the corner and you quit.' This is the cold professional boxing assessment. Technically, it is accurate. McClellan refuses to believe it. He turns to Donnie and says, 'Donnie, you tell this mother****er he lyin' to me, ain't he!' Donnie shakes his moonface from side to side and answers, 'No, G-Man, that's exactly what happen.'

In a little while, as the resident neurosurgeon Mr Sutcliffe and the staff at the Royal London Hospital begin preparing to save Gerald's life, Nigel Benn is wheeled into the cubicle next to him. He gets up, kisses Gerald's hand and says, 'Sorry.' Except Stan said later he never heard Nigel say that.

He heard something else, though.

Don King arrived soon after Benn to see the man who had been his fighter, the product he hoped would generate big money, but who would now definitely not play any further part in King's plans. Standing not far from Gerald's bed, Don turned to Stan and Donnie and said, 'Gerald quit, man ... He quit like a dog.'

Some dog.

Fighting for life (part 2)

Sunday November 4, 2001
Observer Sport Monthly


Illinois, August 2000: Gerald's house
It's the last one on the right. That's where the street ends. Near the old trainless railway line. It is an ordinary place, and anything but ordinary at the same time. Here is where Gerald sits as the noise swirls around him. The battle is all but done now, though. His sister Lisa does not expect the fight to carry on. When Gerald's money runs out, Lisa says she will move Gerald into her place. Stan reckons she will 'stick Gerry in a home'.

Lisa answers the door and I've yet to winkle a smile out of her. As I step inside, there on his green recliner is Gerald. This, as I had been warned, is a seriously disturbing moment.

In a way, any embarrassment or nervousness on a stranger's part is misplaced, given that McClellan would be unaware of who the stranger was. Yet there was an undeniable feeling coming off the big man that he knew more about you than you imagined. Maybe it was a fighter's sixth sense.

Lisa introduces us.

'This is Kevin!' she shouts into McClellan's left ear, the one that works best. 'Kevin, Gerald! From London, England!'

There is no response.

'He's a writer! He's come from London, England, to say hello to you, Gerald! Say hello to Kevin!'

'Kevin?'

'Yes! From London, England!'

'London? London, England? Kevin? Kevin from London? London, England?'

Gerald asks Lisa what's the difference between a writer and a reporter. Reporters he'd met. They were the guys who took down what he said after he'd won a fight. Lisa tells her brother reporters work for newspapers; writers, well, they write other stuff, like books.

'How much you weigh, Kevin?'

'About 12 stone, Gerald.'

'Twelve stone? Twelve stone?'

That was McClellan's division when he finished up, super-middleweight. It's struck a chord. Except he never reached 12 stone. He levelled out three pounds under the limit for Benn. Nobody would ever know if that was a factor in his collapse in the later rounds. Some suspected it was.

I am sitting awkwardly on the edge of the couch next to Gerald. Lisa tells me to take hold of his hand and to squeeze it as hard as I can. I'm not in the best position to do this comfortably, but I grab Gerald's right hand, the hand that only a few years ago was one of the most feared in boxing, the one that had made McClellan briefly famous, the right he'd busted on Julian Jackson's head then, nearly a year later, had used to hammer Benn.

As our skins touch, Gerald's face comes to life. He bears down tight on my much smaller hand, crushing the knuckles into a ragged line. I am unable to do anything about it and will remain in this bizarre position, perched on the couch with my hand in the grip of a blind man, for at least another hour. We try to talk, but there is not much of what you could call dialogue. Still, Gerald makes an effort to engage. There is a warmth in his faltering voice. He'd like to know about this strange man who's landed up in his front room.

'Kevin? From London, England? Hey, Kevin. Why did you come? Why you come to see the G-Man?'

'To see how you are, Gerald. To say hello and to see how you are. To wish you well.'

I would learn that Gerald could not take in a sentence of that length all at once. His powers of comprehension have been so shredded, he can only communicate in bursts of a few words, repeated over and over, shouted into his ear, as you prick some sensation in him by squeezing his right hand or pinching him above the right shoulder. These are the magic zones of life in McClellan's wrecked body. I am overcome with admiration for his courage.

We continue to shout each other's names at each other for several minutes, as Lisa sits nearby, attending to her stricken brother in a schoolmarm way, chiding him here and there, all the time rubbing his shoulder. Her face is emotionless. She has been through this wringer for more than five years. There is nothing left to cry about. Or to smile about. I think I see why she is so hard.

The television is on in the background, with the sound down. When Gerald talks it is with a crackling energy that drowns out the TV. He is a reduced presence the rest of the time, much like Ali, whose Parkinson's syndrome subdues a once overpoweringly alive human being. Gerald was a notorious 'rounder', to use the American expression. He once could not sit still. Now he has no choice. His movement is restricted to mundane bodily tasks. It is a world of milk and cookies, of trips to the bathroom, of going to bed, of getting up. He embroiders the boredom with love. If his children and other family come close, Gerald pours emotion on them, and asks them to give some back. It is as if all those wild nights in Detroit, with Deuce and Stan and Donnie and a cast of other unknowns, was leading to this. He was no saint, but he was an average sinner, by all accounts. He has come home.

My hand has seized up. It really has. I can feel nothing in my fingers. There is a patch of my back that has gone numb too. The only sensation there is a dull ache. It's going to take a Scotch or two to get rid of that. It's enough to have been allowed briefly into his heart, a stranger indulged and welcomed, but the exercise in stuttering communication is painful. I feel like a voyeur.

'I have to go now, Gerald!' I shout into his ear.

'Kevin? From London, England?'

'Yes! Thank you very much for having me in your house!'

'Hey, Kevin! Kevin! You stay with the G-Man next time, yeah?'

'Yes, Gerald! I'd like that. I'd like that very much!'

I prise my hand free. It is as white as a china plate. My back is in spasm. I stand up, physically drained and spiritually high. Gerald is led into his bedroom. His legs, which once conveyed him so smoothly around the ring, shift cumbersomely on their familiar journey. As he leaves the room, a horrible, cold emptiness takes his place.

Why do they do it? Why do we watch it?

Why? Why do men allow themselves to be led to a ring and fight each other for nothing more tangible than glory or money - when the price can be death or a lifetime of half-death?

It is Pride. Ego. The need to establish an identity. To make a living the only (or most efficient) way some men know how. All of these. And something else, surely.

An American scientist, Dr Craig Venter, disturbed some unshakeable verities earlier this year when he concluded that man is not genetically superior to the rest of nature. 'In many cases,' he said, 'we have found that humans have nearly exactly the same [number of] genes as rats, mice, cats, dogs and even fruit flies.'

Of mice and men and fruit flies. All God's dumb creatures.

If we are biologically little better than animals, maybe it is our baseness that makes us fight, a deep, rarely tapped urge to survive that can never be wholly 'civilised'.

This drags the conclusions closer to Darwin and his idea of survival of the fittest than it does to Nietzsche, who saw something more cerebral in the struggle, who urged us to conquer our inner self, without God, to become Superman. The triumph of the will.

For me, Eddie Futch expressed it best. I asked the wonderful old trainer once why he thought boxing existed in a society that might know better. 'Men just fight,' was his simple response. 'Look at kids. They run about, compete against each other without thinking. It is just natural, it's in them.'

And Eddie knew the flip side to fighting. Eddie was the man who probably saved Joe Frazier's life.

When Eddie accompanied Joe to Manila for the third fight between Frazier and Muhammad Ali in 1975, the air stank with cheap language. Ali, at his worst, called Joe a gorilla. 'Ignorant. Stupid. Ugly.' It slipped beyond pantomime. When Frazier heard what Ali said, he told Eddie, 'Whatever you do, whatever happens, don't stop the fight ...I'm gonna eat this half-breed's heart right out of his chest. I mean it. This is the end of him or me.'

After 14 rounds, Joe's right eye, his good one, was a purple mess and he could barely see. His body was closing down. So was Ali's. Futch, who knew Frazier's wife and children as friends, looked at him sitting spent on the stool and would not let Joe risk another three minutes. The most relieved man in the drama was not Joe, who felt cheated, but Ali. Joe and Eddie didn't find out until later, but Ali had had enough. He had 'gone through the trapdoor', as he described it afterwards. Joe, however, was ready to risk suicide - which is why he harbours bitterness towards Ali to this day. Joe is even sore, still, at Eddie.

Certainly, he resents the insults levelled at him, arguing with some strength that Ali demeaned his fighting integrity, as well as his dignity as a man. That, in Joe's view, demanded retribution. But they'd fight each other no more - which opened up a bigger hurt for Joe. He reckons now that, if he'd come out for the fifteenth round, Ali would not have been there to meet him. There is good evidence for that view. People in Ali's corner alerted his trainer, Angelo Dundee, to what was happening on the other side of the ring, as Futch was motioning the referee over to tell him Joe was quitting. A second or two later, and it might have been Dundee telling the referee that Ali wanted to quit. And Frazier would have won what the fine American boxing writer Jerry Izenberg called 'the championship of each other' by two fights to one.

For Futch at that point, however, the result of a boxing match was irrelevant. In pulling Frazier out while there was even a trace of fight left in him, he made a decision not based on animal urges, thirst for revenge or smart philosophy. He was not driven by the macho leanings of unbruised Fight Writers or the considerations of those who had promoted the fight. Futch just knew that, however compromised, man always has a choice.

Eddie had saved Joe having to make that choice. So Joe could always say it wasn't him who quit. Frazier didn't like to quit altogether, though. In his next bout, he even fought with contact lenses in. He boxed on too long for his own good, like Ali did, like Benn, like a thousand others. Futch only doused the fire for a moment. It flickered dangerously in Frazier's heart until even he could rise no more.

Joe is one of the few fighters who still makes the trip to the house at the bottom of Wyandotte Street. Sitting opposite him in the green recliner, he sees what might have been. And he knows Gerald is no mother****in' dog.

This is an edited extract from Kevin Mitchell's new book, 'War, Baby: The Glamour of Violence' published by Yellow Jersey Press. To order a copy for £8 plus p&p, call the OSM book service on 0870 066 7989.

Readers who would like to make a donation to Gerald McClellan should send it to the Gerald McClellan Estate, Fifth Third Bank, PO Box 660, Freeport, IL 61032.

The title fighter who wrapped his own hands

Kevin Sanders, Nigel Benn's trainer, had come to inspect the wrapping of Gerald's hands, as is boxing's custom. It is a gesture of fair play, but Kevin didn't reckon on finding any underhand activity, it was just a formality.

But, as he was walking back to Nigel's dressing room, Sanders thought about what he'd just seen: Gerald was wrapping his own hands. Fighters will do this in the gym, but just before a contest? It's not only difficult, it's pretty much impossible to do properly.

A boxer's hands are bomb sites, bumpy with hillocks of crunched-up gristle and bone. Much of the damage is inflicted on the back of the fist and near the wrist. That's where bones break if the wrapping isn't sound. I've seen it done expertly, trainers dragging the bandage tightly and precisely across the base of the wrist, securing the middle part of the thumb to bring balance to the hand, bulking up over the outside knuckles to level off the hitting area at the top of the fist, which relieves pressure on the two more prominent knuckles, then bringing the bandage around and under to form a comfortable ball in the palm of the hand. This is the Manny Steward method, copied by a lot of American and British trainers. What it puts on the end of a boxer's arm is a wrecking ball. As Glenn McCrory, the former world cruiserweight champion, put it to me once, wrap your fists up the right way and you can punch through a wall. Get it wrong and you're hitting with candyfloss.

Gerald had arrived in London without Steward or Willie Brown, his regular trainer and the man who latterly had been wrapping his hands. He had fallen out with Steward over money and soon afterwards Willie became unavailable. He told Gerald he was leaving the game, getting married. Gerald didn't believe him.

On fight night, therefore, Steward was sitting in front of the television back home in the States, and Gerald picked up the gauze and wrapped his hands. He would overcome.

i hate that i got a new phone and am confused on how to use it :o
what brand?????

what brand?????


t-mobile mda.....

http://www.sports-plus.net/_borders/nigelbenn66.jpg

A little image for Exige.

i think tmobile is the provider

nikia motorola sony those would be brandnames

i think tmobile is the provider

nikia motorola sony those would be brandnames


ahahaha yeah i know t-mobile is the provider. the phone is called mda by t-mobile

i hate that versatile should have a flame ware with asian or manny p or 2tough but it wont happen. i hate that jack the snitcher is annoying and 2nd II None never post in NSB. I hate that i can fly like a bird in the sky.

i hate that i have no idea what vcash is.

ahahaha yeah i know t-mobile is the provider. the phone is called mda by t-mobile
you should get phones from nokia very easy to use

i hate that versatile should have a flame ware with asian or manny p or 2tough but it wont happen. i hate that jack the snitcher is annoying and 2nd II None never post in NSB. I hate that i can fly like a bird in the sky.


i hate that u werent here when me and manny p did have big flaming wars. to late for u i guess :o

i hate rocky balboa :D

you should get phones from nokia very easy to use


this 1 is hard cause it has ****in windows on it ahahaha. its like a mini computer.

i hate that u werent here when me and manny p did have big flaming wars. to late for u i guess :o
i hate that you dont know who i am. i hate that i wasnt there to see it, i hate that i dont know who won.

i hate that you dont know who i am. i hate that i wasnt there to see it, i hate that i dont know who won.


i hate that i dont know none :D

this 1 is hard cause it has ****in windows on it ahahaha. its like a mini computer.

thats whats a manual is for :D

thats whats a manual is for :D


yeah i got 1. its thick as hell. good think is i can download porno from the internet on it. :D i think thats all i need :D :D

i hate that i dont know none :D
http://www.boxingscene.com/forums/member.php?u=31290

i hate that im in love with my teacher, she teachin, im learnin, my ruler is firmin.

yeah i got 1. its thick as hell. good think is i can download porno from the internet on it. :D i think thats all i need :D :D
thats whats good with pda's its all in one

http://www.boxingscene.com/forums/member.php?u=31290

i hate that im in love with my teacher, she teachin, im learnin, my ruler is firmin.


u must be on another computer then cause i thought u were perma banned

yea i am but im using somethin to give me another IP.

yea i am but im using somethin to give me another IP.


how come u didnt tell me u were white

I love large,black cocks.......
:eek: ................

how come u didnt tell me u were white
for the last time n i g g a i aint white, ask hous or charmer they seen my pic.

lol, oh the other nerd...

nextrocky aka da iceman

:eek: ................
only ***s quote people and edit. :eek: :eek: get a life

lol, oh the other nerd...

nextrocky aka da iceman
lol the other *** with chicken legs smokin. you still trollin and leadin a thug life?

only ***s quote people and edit. :eek: :eek: get a life
Well I am drunk and bored so why not.........at the moment I have a choice bed or edit peoples posts.........obviously I chose the latter for the moment.

lol the other *** with chicken legs smokin. you still trollin and leadin a thug life?
definitely...

you still spending day and night on a computer?

Well I am drunk and bored so why not.........at the moment I have a choice bed or edit peoples posts.........obviously I chose the latter for the moment.
why dont you choose jackin off to smokin's du rag pic? that seems more of your taste. seein as how u gay and all......:cool:

why dont you do like me and spend your nights jackin off to smokin's du rag pic? that seems more of your taste.
I don't know maybe I should try it...... :rolleyes:

this kids got a great life....ROFL

you depressed, shut in kids need to get out more

this is what the hate thread is all about, keep it coming boys :D

this is what the hate thread is all about, keep it cummin boys :D

:eek: You OK bro?

:eek: You OK bro?


i made what your doing a trademark here. along with giving away billions of points at a time :cool:

quiet, small thighs :)

i made what your doing a trademark here. along with giving away billions of points at a time :cool:
JusT ****ING AROUND mODFATHER.............

JusT ****ING AROUND mODFATHER.............


thats right :D ........

this kids got a great life....ROFL

you depressed, shut in kids need to get out more
just remember this

http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g84/Hous_photos/Smokin.jpg

just remember this

http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g84/Hous_photos/Smokin.jpg
LMAO.....on that note my comfy bed is calling me........you cunts hate on.

damn I'm pretty...

pretty gay.

i hate that im banned so i dont have access to my points :(

i hate that im banned so i dont have access to my points :(
hahahahahahahaha :p

i hate that i tore another mucsle

this must be the longest thread ever, on any forum, anywhere in the world.

I hate work.

I hate that you're too young to be working.

I hate that you're too young to be working.
I hate that by work I ment anything that forces me to exert myself when I don't want to. Like school work.

I hate that they won't "officially" let NextRocky back.

I hate that they won't "officially" let NextRocky back.

I hate that you live in herpes,ca because my cousin went to sultana high school :(

I hate that you live in herpes,ca because my cousin went to sultana high school :(
I hate that Sultana sucks so bad. We beat those ***s in everything

I hate when people say that time heals a broken heart.

I hate that mine never quite healed.

Rockin' :boxing:

I hate that mine never quite healed.

Rockin' :boxing:
I hate that that saying is wrong.

I hate not remembering why I have 39 billion points in my pocket. :confused:

I hate that that saying is wrong.

Me too..............Rockin' :boxing:

I hate that I jumped into the whole "Team" thing so fast. What is the point of an internet team anyway? :confused:

I hate that you live in herpes,ca because my cousin went to sultana high school :(
I hate Sultana.

I hate that some people say Avril Lavigne is the most beautiful girl in the world. To Each His Own.

I hate that some people say Avril Lavigne is the most beautiful girl in the world. To Each His Own.
:mad: :mad: :mad: she is fugly

i concur :D

i concur :D
And flipside has good taste.

And flipside has good taste.
hey Piggu are you going to get a myspace?

hey Piggu are you going to get a myspace?
I ****ing hate when people don't spew hate in this thread.

I ****ing hate when people don't spew hate in this thread.
sorry


Hey piggu i hate that you dont have a myspace

how is that? :p

I hate that by work I ment anything that forces me to exert myself when I don't want to. Like school work.

Yeah schoolwork must really tax you.

I hope you dont mean highschool, cos HS is some of the easiet shit ever. I had time to breeze hs, and still operate chess club. :)

sorry


Hey piggu i hate that you dont have a myspace

how is that? :p
:lol1: :lol1:

sorry


Hey piggu i hate that you dont have a myspace

how is that? :p
I hate that you didn't direct a question at me in that post.

I hate when 1 person leaves like 1,000,000 worthless messages on your answering machine

I hate when 1 person leaves like 1,000,000 worthless messages on your answering machine
I hate when someone talks with the phone too close to their head.

I hate having a fever. :mad:

I hate being sick when I have a three day weekend.

I hate that I'm so sexy

I hate that I'm so sexy
I hate that your hairy legs are sexy too.

I hate that your hairy legs are sexy too.
Lol I hate that everyone believes that f@g who made that up

I hate that I will once again resticky this thread.

"HATRED THREAD!!!" stickied successfully!

I hate when 1 person leaves like 1,000,000 worthless messages on your answering machine
I hate spam e-mail

I hate ****ing old people driving.

I hate people talking during the movie while in the theatre.

I hate people talking during the movie while in the theatre.
I hate when the chick I am with starts jerking me off in the movie theater......**** she could have done it on the way or on the way home....I just paid to watch this ****ing movie.

I hate when the chick I am with starts jerking me off in the movie theater......**** she could have done it on the way or on the way home....I just paid to watch this ****ing movie.
I hate that with a passion, you lose half your popcorn with all the jerking motions.

I hate that with a passion, you lose half your popcorn with all the jerking motions.
Yup......and the last bitch made me shoot it on my shirt so I walked out loooking like I spilled soda on me and don't know what the **** happened in the movie.....I HATE that.

Yup......and the last bitch made me shoot it on my shirt so I walked out loooking like I spilled soda on me and don't know what the **** happened in the movie.....I HATE that.
I hate that girls nowadays don't clean up after themselves, what's wrong with swallowing, damn bitches.

I hate that girls nowadays don't clean up after themselves, what's wrong with swallowing, damn bitches.
I hate that I have no idea......those ingrateful bitches....

I hate that I have no idea......those ingrateful bitches....
I hate that if that ever happens again, she'll have to pay for the tickets the next time around, and I mean that.

i hate my father, he is a basterd that if i see agian i will pop a cap in his foot, LOL

i hate my father, he is a basterd that if i see agian i will pop a cap in his foot, LOL
I hate that my father thinks he knows me well.

I hate that my father died when I was very young.

I hate that my father died when I was very young.
I hate that I am sorry for you.

I hate that I am sorry for you.
I hate that life's a bitch sometimes

I hate that life's a bitch sometimes
yes it is :(

i hate that no one else has posted on the Hatred thread

i hate that no one else has posted on the Hatred thread
I hate that I am retiring from hatred. It's time for someone else.

Or I'm taking a vacation at least. For a week or so.

I hate that I am retiring from hatred. It's time for someone else.

Or I'm taking a vacation at least. For a week or so.
alright ...................

i hate this..........

I once again hate my dad, the ignorant racist. He made me "help him" put together this piece of a tool shed, "help him" meaning me doing it myself while he makes racist comments while watching the news. I sliced my hand open on some piece of metal. Right in the working part of my hand, the palm. I have no idea how I'm supposed to write tomorrow, as I can't even stretch my hand out without it bleeding. I stopped working to take care of my hand, and I'm called back out an hour later to prune a tree.

I once again hate my dad, the ignorant racist. He made me "help him" put together this piece of a tool shed, "help him" meaning me doing it myself while he makes racist comments while watching the news. I sliced my hand open on some piece of metal. Right in the working part of my hand, the palm. I have no idea how I'm supposed to write tomorrow, as I can't even stretch my hand out without it bleeding. I stopped working to take care of my hand, and I'm called back out an hour later to prune a tree.
my ****ing Dad hit my in the face the drunk son of a bitch, but now he is out of my life dont have to see him agian, thank god i dont live with him

i hate that its been 5 days since anyone has posted on the Hatred thread

I hate that I am beginning to like school. With the exception of 2nd and 4th period.

I hate that after tomorrow's fight I am giving away all my points. Which is not much anyways.

I hate that after tomorrow's fight I am giving away all my points. Which is not much anyways.
i want them :) :) or do you mean your betting and you will lose

i want them :) :) or do you mean your betting and you will lose
I mean I am picking a number between 1 and 1000 and the winner gets either 39 billion or 23 billion. I've given away 16 billion points in the last week, so I figure, "Why not give them all away at once?".

I mean I am picking a number between 1 and 1000 and the winner gets either 39 billion or 23 billion. I've given away 16 billion points in the last week, so I figure, "Why not give them all away at once?".
i hate that i pick number 7

i hate that i pick number 7
I hate to tell you that you are wrong but since official guessing does not start until after the fight you will get another chance.

I hate Harry Potter !

Potter Stinks !!!

I hate everything about you.......

I hate being high on life. http://x5.freeshare.us/120fs131437.gif

I Hate the hatred thread :D

That Tom Riddle is a wanker :mad: I hate him

i hate that i fell asleep in art class today

I hate that my 5th period teacher accused me of checking out her daughter.

I hate that my 5th period teacher accused me of checking out her daughter.
i hate that in like 6th grade i liked a teachers daughter and i would always go over to her house on wesdnsdays because her mom had to work late and i was over when i was not supposed to be and i pulled her pants down and her mom came in right at that moment :o , but she did not kick me out of her house ;) .

i hate that in like 6th grade i liked a teachers daughter and i would always go over to her house on wesdnsdays because her mom had to work late and i was over when i was not supposed to be and i pulled her pants down and her mom came in right at that moment :o , but she did not kick me out of her house ;) .
I hate that I was in a similar circumstance. My 5th grade teachers daughter Allison Williams.

I hate that I was in a similar circumstance. My 5th grade teachers daughter Allison Williams.
i hate that i dont know if she has a myspace

I don't know. Maybe.

I hate that my friend Timmy joined the site, but hasn't logged in for a few days. He better not leave.

I hateeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee taht/..a

I don't know. Maybe.

I hate that my friend Timmy joined the site, but hasn't logged in for a few days. He better not leave.
i hate that i want to know who is he is whats his name on here

i hate that i am not making sense

Give me a second.

http://www.boxingscene.com/forums/member.php?u=52859

http://www.boxingscene.com/forums/member.php?u=52859
i hate that he is older than me :mad:

i hate that he is older than me :mad:
I hate that you are confused. You are both 14.

I hate that you are confused. You are both 14.
i hate that he was born in december of 1991 i was not :(

I hate that I am no good at predicting fights.

I hate when I am talking to a girl and I forget her name.

I hate when I am talking to a girl and I forget her name.
i hate that you have said that before. but that happens to me sometimes

I hate users who put so much crap on their sig.

I hate users who put so much crap on their sig.
i hate that i know that was directed towards me :mad:

i hate that Piggu needs to clean out his privite message box

I hate that I knew what your post would be before you made it.

All right it's clean.

I hate that stupid picture of Abraham flipping off Miranda. And if anyone posts it here I'm giving them bad karma.

****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!! ****!!!

I hate the way I am treated at my house
i'm just now getting on i was supposed to be on 2 hours ago to start working on my project for german but my sister was on
she was on for a combined 3.5 hours today
loser nerd
chat with pedophiles on your own time
and my mom's been going physcho today
at least to me
she got pissed at me for trying to clean the floor
and I'm not allowed to make the 5 minute walk from my house to the library alone
how come she didn't care when i was in the 5th grade walking home alone making a 20 minute trip?
and i do 5 times more chores than my older sister does
i wash dishes, wash clothes, clean floors, give the dogs food, give the dogs water, clean up the dogs' "droppings".
how come i gotta do all the work
the only dog i ever had died 10 years ago
i'm so pissed right now

I hate this "up and comer" custom title.

just how much this custom title cost? :(

Wow, I can't believe this thread is still here.....

Crazy.

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i hate that i hate that