I guess by this time we've all heard the news of Q's passing. She died the way she lived, sucking a fart out of the ass of a dying hog, collapsing on the side of the road only to be found by a gang of bikers who tried to resuscitate her leathery form with brutal bumsex and deep insertion of a tire iron. If anyone wants to add a more fitting obit, then do it on your own goddamned thread you squishy little bedwetter. In the meantime I'll leave you with this picture of Q, that I apparently fucked around with in paint last night when I was pissed. Righto.

As many of you have probably seen, Q's come back from the dead, and in true form, she's madder than ever. I blame myself. If it wasn't for these goddamned Q files the woman would be free to go about her daily duties as a CIA agent/lawyer/savior/philanthropist/silver trader/ranch hand/pro bowler/ jet setting millionaire/ dyspeptic/bikini queen<-----
To assuage my guilt over ruining her life, I thought we'd better settle down and have a good old fashioned chat online to get right to the balls of this thing, and I'm going to try a new method, I'm going to be sympathetic, understanding, and just generally so goddamned nice your teeth will peel.
Enough of this rambling introduction, I'm going to bed.



The Q files. Where a drunk, drug crazed Christian fundamentalist Nazi goes fuckbang crazy in front of your eyeballs. ( Her, not me.)

This Channel is hosted on WCS 1.8.3.1-Linux

MOTD:- Every day confirms my opinion on the superiority of a vicious life, and if Virtue is not its own reward, I don't know any other stipend annexed to it.

QlapQlam 687(DSL) (691 Files) (72.101.183.59)
<Sprinkles515> no, not you, I was hoping you were dead.
<QlapQlam687> oh hey jeff, no I was just in arizona, Pants hired me to be his legal council.
<Sprinkles515> He did?
<QlapQlam687> well I really didn't give him the choice, it worked out well though, I manged to whittle his sentence down to 128 years in a gibbet iron.
<Sprinkles515> he must be over the moon
<QlapQlam687> oh he was jeff, in fact he didn't stop weeping with gratitude the entire time I was with him, right up until the point they dragged him out of the court screaming in joy.
<Sprinkles515> Q?
<QlapQlam687> yes jeff?
<Sprinkles515> Why do you keep calling me jeff?
<QlapQlam687> it's your name jeff, and you also killed a female taxi driver after you drank a bottle of rum and stabbed some kids in the face.
<Sprinkles515> I see.
<Sprinkles515> some people might accuse you of making these things up Q because of your horrible vindictive nature and the fact you're tremendously ugly in every sense of the word. What do you think?
<QlapQlam687> some people might say that jeff, but i'm not one of them. Besides, i have proof.
<Sprinkles515> you do?
<QlapQlam687> yes, it came to me in a vision when i was huffing solvents at the women's shelter, apparently I collapsed because when I woke up a few days later strapped to a bed, a kind pink dinosaur with gentle eyes informed me i'd written jeff all over the walls in my shit and blood. it was quite obvious to me that Jeff was you.
<Sprinkles515> why were you at a women's shelter?
<QlapQlam687> I like going there and seeing how women that aren't highly trained assassins like myself let themselves be victimized by the hated male species. And I like to donate just what i have in my purse, normally about $750,000.
<Sprinkles515> i sat awkward and twisted my nuts.
<QlapQlam687> I do that sometimes myself jeff. Anyway, I'm gonna go and scrape my verrucas and see if bill o reilly fancies a game of tennis on my new yacht, see ya!
QlapQlam has left.
#AdminCmd /kickban Sprinkles515_30604
Sprinkles has left
<o>..<O> lol

I think there might be more to this story than meets the eye. It's time to take the gloves off and fight fire with fire. Q's not the only one who can get completely off her tits snorting hairspray, and if you want visions, ILL GIVE YOU VISIONS BITCH! But before all that i need to burn the little mermaid onto a disk.

TBC.

I'm going to share my thoughts on this survivor game. What you may not take into account is the fact that every day since I started this goddamned thread my very existence has been a struggle for survival. It's one thing to vote off your team mates because they're drug dealing scum of the earth morally bankrupt bastards, it's quite another to upset, constantly, the most dangerous woman since llsa the she wolf of the SS slapped on some rubber stockings and shouted " let's get some medical experiments up in the bitch!"

An excerpt from the Nazi Femdom room ( I'd been redirected...)
<Sprinkles515> fucking hello, i'm new here, what are you wearing?
<Qan Of BreaQfast687> JEFF HAI!
<Sprinkles515> no. not you. not in here
<Qan Of BreaQfast687> Jeff, those Q files are great but unfortunately your life is about to become a series of unfortunate accidents. I can't say when or how, but don't be surprised if a sniper shoots you directly in the face from a distance of 6 miles.
<Sprinkles515> i see. anything else i can look forward to?
<Qan Of BreaQfast687> yes Jeff, that's just the beginning. Because while you're twitching on the ground, bleeding your last into the sewer, i'm going to unravel my guts and fuck you silly.
<Sprinkles515> this is because I tried to vote you out of the game isn't it
<Qan Of BreaQfast687> yes Jeff. yer a deadman. I've got to go and walk Gandalf, he's scratching on the door. see ya Jeff, god bless!
<Gunther Von Mundt> strange new chatter, why are you running amok? raus, und nie verdunkeln dieser Ort wieder mother fucker!
you have been banned.

So there you go, as far as surviving goes I'm already a pro, and I'm going to piss this game and become rich, then drive to Vegas, spend all that money and do it all over again. That's the plan anyway.

ok

A key: CB radio stands for Citizen Band. ( Not to be confused with Citizen Bandwidthbinger that shacked up with Shy Kitty and is expecting his first set of twins some time after the coming end of all creation. Congrats btw)

The Q Files. Inspired by true events. LOL!

Forgive me internets, for I have lapsed. It's been... fuck knows how long since my last Q file, but I thought I'd found peace. I no longer shit myself and dart into the bathroom every time someone rings the doorbell, and I don't pull the phone out of the wall and throw it across the room in nervous panic when it rings anymore. I can walk up to people with a song in my heart ( imagine by John Lennon mostly) and strike up conversations as easily as I would eat a donut. The air tastes fresh, there is optimism on the faces of everyone I see, blissful serenity.

All that died on its arse when I was making breakfast this morning and Q came thundering out of my Radio.

It wasn't even turned on

What follows then, in a slight deviation from the Q file norm, is not a verbatim transcript of a chat room conversation, but composition of her foul rantings over the air waves on a brand spanking new Galaxy DX959 FlameThrower CB radio.
This isn't my first time dealing with people on CB radio, when I was about 8 it was hilarious fun dragging the kit 7 miles to Portsdown Hill, creating a Handle ( Name) and then talking massive amounts of bollocks to mainly men pretending to be women. Or because it was the 80's people like Dax trying to lure and fuck kids. But I soon realised that people had feelings and occasionally you would step over the line, and it took 3 documented suicides for me to see the error of my ways and the slippery slope I was heading down, so I started playing football instead, and doing gymnastics, ballet, embracing all the arts basically. So When I heard Q preaching the armageddon that morning I knew in my soul what she was going through, she was going through the emotional turmoil of an 8 year old boy.

I got my kit from the loft, an old comstat CB, set the frequency, and this is what happened next.

Sprink:- You fucking demented cunt, all I wanted was peace this morning, I am badly hungover, but there is no respite! I woke up in an alleyway in Leeds yesterday afternoon Q, can you comprehend this? The world was fine until you started to speak!!?

Q: - Oh hey Sprink, I didn't know you had CB radio, what's your Handle?

Sprink:- My Handle? You just called me Sprink for fucks sake, what do you think my handle is? Jesus no, what have I done, why am I here?

Q:- It's ok Jeff. The Nephilim are coming, you can't hide, but I am armed to the teeth! With my new CB radio, when the nephilim unleash their powerful EMP blast I will laugh at their effort to quash the communication infrastructure on every frequency my new Galaxy DX959 FlameThrower can generate! I will then gather all the God loving Christians into my flock and we will rally and send those black Sons of Bitches back to Damnation! HOORAH!

Paul:- LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sprink:- The fields of Nephilim? What? Why is Paul here? You can't invade my kitchen like this, all I want is breakfast.

Q:- But we can Sprink. With the new Galaxy DX959 FlameThrower Cb radio we will create a new world, a better world, one without the impurities of friends, relatives, neighbours, or human contact, we will crush the Nephilim with my fucking enormous arsenal of weapons, and we will then stand on the remnants of a once thriving and furtile planet with the power of Radio to guide us.

Sprink:- I need a big fat hairy dump, you'll forgive me if I take the Cb radio with me.

Q:- Urgh, you're so crass. This is Q over and out.

So that's it. The world can only be saved by Q and her Galaxy DX959 FlameThrower CB radio. When all life is nearing extinction, one woman will thrive... she will rule the airwaves, land, and sea, picking her teeth with the bones of the vanquished in the eye of her mind. Creepy.

The Q Files.

One mans quest to make a sad crumbling lying sack of stinking piss seem even more like a worthless cunt.

Jimmy Conway: "You took your first pinch like a man and you learn two great things in your life. Look at me, never rat on your friends and always keep your mouth shut."

I'm sure many of the people reading this will have heard what took part in the room the other day, but for anyone that doesn't know what transpired, what happened, in a nut, was that Q tried to have Jones sacked from his job by phoning up his manager and telling him that Jones was on drugs and that he'd fucked up the computer deliberately where he works. This is just about the lowest shit I've ever heard about in online chat, and typically, I missed all of it. (Fuck.) But that doesn't mean that I didn't get to the real beating heart of the story... I confronted Q about her overwhelming shittyness and why she's such a soulless sour old cunt In the section below. I will copy and paste our conversation from my own source. Jesus Christ it's hot though... I'm not actually typing this at the moment, just formulating in my head what I am going to write when I get home in about three hours and bash all this shit out. Yes, I can really do that. What? Dribble. Moving swiftly on.
I've always considered Q to be the lowest form of scum, it turns out that I'm an excellent judge of character. The evidence to back up my claims follows.

Taken from the room:- Narcs, Rat Bastards, And Lineal Descendants Of Judas Iscariot, This is, as always, a verbatim transcript of our conversation.

This Channel is hosted on WCS 1.8.3.1-Linux, Fuck Amazon.

Topic: "She's loyal. loyal to the Bone."

MOTD: One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though ... betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope.

<Sprinkles505> (DSL) (69141 Files) (82.101.189.59) has entered
<Sprinkles505> Fucking hello.
<Utter.Qunt158> Sprinnles! Did you hear what I did? I tried to have Jones sacked from his job! Then I went down stairs to breast feed Gunny.
<Sprinkles505> I can't read these things.
<Sprinkles505> Why did you do that anyway?
<Utter.Qunt158> Because he's hungry, and only Mummy Bear can look after him.
<Sprinkles505> I meant with Jones you silly bitch, we all know about your shit with Gunny.
<Utter.Qunt158> Oh that. Well it's for his own good, Splink. I figure the best way for him to get off the drugs is if I completely fuck his life up, it's how I got my job as an addiction disabler in the first place.
<Sprinkles505> You got that job by fucking people over?
<Utter.Qunt158> That's right Sprinth, I have a real knack for it. Take all these women at the shelters I visit, before they met me they had great lives, so I interject myself into their particular situation and fuck them right up! I find sleeping with someone's husband the best way to do this.
<Sprinkles505> I see, and you're doing this because you want to help them?
<Utter.Qunt158> Hold on Sprank, Darryls trying to breathe, I'm sat on his face.
<Sprinkles505> Jesus Christ.
<Utter.Qunt158> It's ok Sponk, I disabled him. A little something called vaginal asphyxiation, I basically smother him with my matted pubes. I learnt this trick working in the red light district of Soho.
<Sprinkles505> Let me guess, you were working under cover for MI-6?
<Utter.Qunt158> No Sprint, just as a prostitute. I was doing research.
<Sprinkles505> Don't you feel in the least bit guilty calling Jones' boss and dropping him in the shit for something that was absolutely none of your business?
<Utter.Qunt158> Not you as well Spiffles? I've already been over this, no, I don't feel guilty. He made me cry by pointing out the fact I'm a pathological liar with the IQ of a P.E Teacher, so what did he expect? Of course I'm going to try and get him fired.
<Sprinkles505> You don't think this is childish vengeful shit that most people grow out of by the time they're 10?
<Utter.Qunt158> Spronkles, If you don't shut the fuck fuck up, I'll find out where you live and tell them all about the time you were an inmate at Ramptons! I have proof, I found your fingerprints on Youtube! Gandalf sold me a copy of your rectal scan!
<Sprinkles505> My rectal scan....?
<Utter.Qunt158> I MENT "RETINAL SCAM!" this is war Spjihnp, once Gunny's recovered from his crippling calcium deficiency I'm going to send him out to get you. Where's my gin? Jesus luvs u! see ya.
<Utter.Qunt158> Has left.
<Sprinkles505> What a fucking Twat.

So there we go. Proof, if proof be need be, that in the entire spectrum of absolute Arseholes you can meet in Winmx, or indeed anywhere else for that matter, Q is probably the most vile and disgusting out of all of them. With Santi coming second. Sick Paedo cunt.

Ok.

The Q Files.

At this point I'm sure we're all aware of Q's impending activation.... It's been coming now for almost 43 months, but once the T's are dotted and the eyes are crossed, she'll be vacuum packed for transport, the mind control will take over, and she'll Manchurian Candidate herself across the planet doing fucked up shit. Which is why I was fucking terrified yesterday evening around 20:45, when I thought the crazy cunt had plonked herself down next to me as I was sat on the beach fishing on Southsea sea front.
I'd only been there for 10 minutes, and I choose the spot for solitude. I'm not sure if any cunt's ever actually caught any fish there, but this doesn't bother me. I like to cast the line into the water, and fall asleep sat bolt upright in the shingle, and then leave once my arse goes numb. Obviously this night was different, because I wasn't expecting to be joined by a gibbering lunatic that had apparently appeared out of the fucking aether to interrupt my arse numbing-sleeping-fishing session. I thought to myself, well... fuck. You're going to have to make the most of this opportunity, so I got out my note pad which I normally use to write fine poetry, and conducted an interview on the spot, with a freshly deployed Q.

Taken from my notes on Friday 12th June 2015:-

Me: "ARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! Jesus Bastard... I was asleep, who are you? What the fuck! Why am I here? MY FEET ARE WET!"

I steady my nerves with a large shot of Bombay sapphire which I keep on me at all times in case of emergencies.

Qommander Bond: "Hai Sprink! I came to warn you that the Bilderberg Group and the Trilateral Commission will pull all the strings to get Hilary elected, because this is what the Anti Christ is ordering them to do.

Me: "I couldn't give flying fuck, please go away."

Qommander Bond: "They want to take our guns, and without guns we are nothing! These liberal Lizard Jewish bankers! Lovecraft had the right idea, it's time for the old Gods to return!!!

Me: "So you're still fucking mental then? Are you wearing a wig?"

Qommander Bond: "Yes Sprink, I'm deep undercover..."

Me: "You're wearing a Tee-Shirt with a huge Q on the front of it...."

Qommander Bond: "Yes Sprink, we must never forget who we are. It's actually an old Indian tactic, if you hide in plain sight, you can infiltrate them quicker"

Me: "What exactly is it you're infiltrating apart from my sanity and valuable fishing time?"

Qommander Bond: "Good question Sprink, I don't actually know. My orders still haven't come through, and my husband has been missing for 48 years. I've been deployed, but to do what, only the Zeta Reticulans can know."

Me "He's been missing for 48 years? How old are you then?"

Qommander Bond: "47."

Me: "Er...."

Qommander Bond: "I know what you're thinking Sprink, you're thinking about tearing all my clothes off and taking me right here on this beach made up primarily of used needles and rusting beer cans, do what you must!

At this point She starts to undress, and I begin to shit myself. I have no intention of fucking a creature that's drier than the Atacama. I'm also stuck to the floor with terror and unable to move, but I summon the will power to bolt just about the time she whips her boxer shorts towards my face. Stiffing the temptation to puke out all my internal organs, I leave the fishing gear behind, and make a mad dash towards the van which is fucking miles away, but 10 metres into my escape I get fucking knackered and have to start walking. I look back fearing that she'll be right behind me trying to nibble my neck but she's gone. All that remains of her, are her clothes:- The Q Tee-Shirt, foil hat and mullet wig, and black plimsolls in a mound on the floor, but the camouflage boxer shorts are caught on my fishing rod and waving in the wind like a constant reminder of her foul presence.

So that's that then. I'm not sure we'll ever get to the bottom of this mystery. For my part I've tried to erase all memory of this encounter by inhaling large quantities of noxious fumes. I suggest you all do the same.

Ok.