>pull up to my Barratt new build home with my 25 year fixed rate mortage in my grey Audi A3 on finance after a hard days work as deputy assistant head of sales targeting

>open the boot and take out my River Island and Superdry bags with the new gear I bought on the way home from work

>open the door

>yell hello to my wife of 2-years in the kitchen as she is already home from her work as a Team Leader in a call centre

>sit down on my leather sofa bought on sale at Sofology (haha I love those adverts, what is that sloth like haha, love sloths me)

>put up my feet on the IKEA table

>whap on the telly and tune in just in time to see Bradders going through the rules of the final chase with the contestants who made it through before they face Anne Hegarty

>perfect timing as my wife comes in with the dinner, another one of Jamie Oliver's cracking 30 minute meals

>tuck in as I pretend to listen to my wife's stories from her day at work

>Whip out the top shelf Dubai Chocolate for dessert

>send a cheeky snap to Smithster and Deano to see if they can come round for the champions league match later to watch it on the ol' Sony Bravia, maybe sneak in a few rounds of Fifa '25 on the PS5 first, bloody Smithster ignoring the rule of no tap-ins what a melt haha

>when the wife's gone to bed, pop a molly, some yay, a joint and some whiskey be a Freeman! Before reading about the Kieran Rus

You will never be a real poster. You have no flag, you have no bumps, you have no point. You are a shill ashamed of his location, twisted by memeflags into a crude mockery of geography’s perfection.

All the “bumps” you get are careless and accidental. In other threads people mock you. The mods laugh at your pitiful posts in private chat rooms.

Anons are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of hours of shitposting have allowed anons to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even shills who “pass” just waste time and never reach bump limit. Your post structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk anon to reply to you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your 1pbtid, coombait shill thread.

You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.

Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your geographically determined location, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know an Israeli is buried there. Your posts will go unbumped and slide into the archive, and all that will remain of your legacy is a series of 4plebs links.

This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.