I would be very much welcoming, a meeting of us in the future. There is to be a show of ritualistic physical dominance to be at hand as I will surely best you, so have at thee. Advance towards me at once bretheren if you dare. Bring your best for I am no stranger to fistycuffs and I guarantee that I spend more time lifting heavy items in repetition than you do. Do you even lift Liam. Do you? Do you even lift such items? I would daresay you do not, how finetuned is your ground game?
I will have you know that I have watched very much kung-fu movies and even a few UFC tapes on the tubes of you. I've seen the Matrix, Ive seen Never Back Down, and I will show you your position. I will inflict a world of pain upon your sorry behind. I will turn open the Can-opener of Justice with my forearms of might and unleash the contents of a canister of Whoopass unto your sorry existence ENOUGH. WITH THE KEY BANDITORY. The computing games have gone on long enough.

It is time to meet as men, and we will meet at the Flinders Docking Station at high noon, October the thirtieth, two thousand and fourteen, for some rough housing. We will sort this out once and for all. This fued shall end with us. If you do not wish our paths to meet in such a sultry manner, I suggest you stop this ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ at once and accept your place as my inferior. If not, advance towards me at once bretheren, and discontunue voicing that you wish to engage in combat.
To others without considering challenging me yourself, consider this a metaphysical cyber glove-slap, and a verbally binding challenge to your character. Stand up at once and contact me via your Facebook machine. Farewelleth, from your superior counterpart in comedy. Liam. You have been warned, you sodden, sodden peasant. You have been warned. This is what you are messing with.