mine means brasil won five times = brasil5x

Mine is from a short novel by H. P. Lovecraft written in 1920 :

Nyarlathotep... the crawling chaos... I am the last... I will tell the audient void...

I do not recall distinctly when it began, but it was months ago. The general tension was horrible. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger as may be imagined only in the most terrible phantasms of the night. I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. There was a demoniac alteration in the sequence of the seasons the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and everyone felt that the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the control of known gods or forces to that of gods or forces which were unknown.

And it was then that Nyarlathotep came out of Egypt. Who he was, none could tell, but he was of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet could not say why. He said he had risen up out of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and that he had heard messages from places not on this planet. Into the lands of civilisation came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger. He spoke much of the sciences of electricity and psychology and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep, and shuddered. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished, for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare. Never before had the screams of nightmare been such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the small hours, that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky.

I remember when Nyarlathotep came to my city the great, the old, the terrible city of unnumbered crimes. My friend had told me of him, and of the impelling fascination and allurement of his revelations, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. My friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings; and what was thrown on a screen in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and in the sputter of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which showed only in the eyes. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not.

It was in the hot autumn that I went through the night with the restless crowds to see Nyarlathotep; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the choking room. And shadowed on a screen, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. And I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the dimming, cooling sun. Then the sparks played amazingly around the heads of the spectators, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out and squatted on the heads. And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about imposture and static electricity, Nyarlathotep drove us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the damp, hot, deserted midnight streets. I screamed aloud that I was not afraid; that I never could be afraid; and others screamed with me for solace. We swore to one another that the city was exactly the same, and still alive; and when the electric lights began to fade we cursed the company over and over again, and laughed at the queer faces we made.

I believe we felt something coming down from the greenish moon, for when we began to depend on its light we drifted into curious involuntary marching formations and seemed to know our destinations though we dared not think of them. Once we looked at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to show where the tramways had run. And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and almost on its side. When we gazed around the horizon, we could not find the third tower by the river, and noticed that the silhouette of the second tower was ragged at the top. Then we split up into narrow columns, each of which seemed drawn in a different direction. One disappeared in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the echo of a shocking moan. Another filed down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a laughter that was mad. My own column was sucked toward the open country, and presently I felt a chill which was not of the hot autumn; for as we stalked out on the dark moor, we beheld around us the hellish moon-glitter of evil snows. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf all the blacker for its glittering walls. The column seemed very thin indeed as it plodded dreamily into the gulf. I lingered behind, for the black rift in the green-litten snow was frightful, and I thought I had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; but my power to linger was slight. As if beckoned by those who had gone before, I half-floated between the titanic snowdrifts, quivering and afraid, into the sightless vortex of the unimaginable.

Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the gods that were can tell. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. And through this revolting graveyard of the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep.

Get straight to the point I aint going to read all that.

You should, it's HP Lovecraft..

my user name is to complicated to explain

My name is Jay I support Juve.

Wahay.

Havent got the time to explain

WTF is HP Lovecraft?

mine is my surname

My second name is Kewley - people used to think it was a Q at the start.

So Q became "Qoo" and "Bie" cos "Qoo" was already taken and it sounds a bit like Scooby!?

kewley eh? I'm gonna call you Harry

ummm i have no idea why i chose ace. My actual nickname is clark kent because i'm a journalist

Mine, goes way back... long story eh.

simple fat b*****d that works on Pipes

Used to work for a company called magix when I signed up.

Two clubs Crew and Kings and put them together, creative I know. Nyar's maybe my favorite username, still enjoy that short story.

Funnily enough, Clare is my name

F.H stand for the place in Newcastle i live - Forest Hall.

We take our Forest Hall Mags flag every match we go.

holden was better

Yeah i know......i was gonna change it back, but realised i didnt know how to and couldnt be arsed to mess around. Chould i change it?

no but I can

Ok.....Mine's my surname.

much better

I went to Mrs Sowerby's playgroup when I was three and afterwards, was tapdancing. I was in my red leotard and skirt (which was the cutest thing ever, I have still got it at home) and I sat on a ledge to tie up my shoes on the way home and I sat on an exposed nail and started to cry. A little boy ran over and said "That girl is crying" and Mrs Sowerby said "who?" and this other kid said "Smudge! Smudge is crying" and apparently they all the other kids thought my name was Smudge? And it just stuck when I got to infants school.

do yer parents call you smudge to??

Speaks for itself really.

Used it for years now, I have been known around here for it so I just didn't bother changing it.

No, my mam calls me Melly, and my Dad either calls me "Put the news on" or "Get off the computer, I want buy some crap on eBay".

we call byatt put the kettle on

Yeah, that's also a popular sign of affection at ours as well

i'm sure when you have kids of your own

you will have quite a lot of affectionate names for em

like come her, sit down oi

Doesn't make sense to me

When I signed up for the Green place Everton were second in the table using the 4-1-4-1 formation. I'm stuck with it now.

I am Fulham and I am a casual.

Valiant (Vale's nickname) from Cheshire. Nothing more interesting than that

Mine is quite simple really. I support Chelsea and I'm a girl. Put the two together and ta da, you have my username

Where abouts in cheshire do you live? I was brought up in the lovely & sunny Runcorn!

Nickname.

i wanted chelsea in my user name and its the 1st thing i thought of that would actually register on the forum i was trying to get on (not on this forum)

so i use it all the time now

i got the sir in the new years honours list

We are QPR

It's a chant, and it kind of rhymes

Wilmslow originally. Runcorn's nice, got mates there and in Frodsham which is just down the road. Nicest high street in the country in Frodsham apparently

Wimslow, Runcorn and Frodsham

Where's Wimslow?

Leeds Lad

Where's the comedy? Where are you from mo fo!

Was called Toon Soldier back in the day because i was part of the Toon Army.

Just shortened it to Toonie

Oh aye I went to school in Frodsham. I always saw it as a bit of a Marks & Spencers town! i.e. full of toffee nosed *blank or blanks*!

Nice pub in a side road just opposite the Natwest. Saw Djibril Cisse in there once. Useless story for you there

The comedy is with the ridiculous names

I'm from Wembley. Round my way we have proper names for places, Harrow, Sudbury, Kenton, Kingsbury

Place in Bristol called Fishponds

All names sound ridiculous in a southern accent though, that's probably what's confusing you

I'll meet you at the pub in a while, just popping down to Frodsham

I'm going off for a bit to cry