You shamrock-shamed boy.. today I’m stepping off my throne and grinding into that Irish pride of yours. I’m counting every trembling tug of that puny leprechaun dick, laughing louder with each pathetic stroke. Feel the Union Jack wrap around your throat while I toy with the only pot of gold you possess—the dribble begging to leak from your balls. You’ll edge, leak, pay tribute, and still be denied the finish line—because you will kneel before your British Queen!
