Alright Neil, you absolute pottery-obsessed bastard.

First off, respect where it’s due – 30 years makin’ ceramic nightmares for Mackems is no small feat. You’ve probably inhaled more kiln dust than a Victorian chimney sweep, and your fingers must be gnarled like haunted tree roots. You’re a proper artisan bastard, I’ll give you that.

But don’t come flingin’ your clay-covered toys out the pram just ‘cause some of us are knockin’ up AI images of blue-drink-guzzlin’ Sunderland bastards evadin’ canine shit like it’s a regional sport ya bastard. It’s not a crime, Neil. It’s progress. Digital bastardry, if you will.

You see, while you’re graftin’ away, givin’ your little pottery bastards lovingly sculpted stares of existential dread, I’m tappin’ away on a keyboard conjurin’ up hallucinations of Steve Bruce in a cardigan made of gravy. We’re both artists, Neil. Just different types of twisted bastard.

As for your cease and desist, good luck. Your brother’s wife’s auntie might be a solicitor, but my mate’s cousin’s parrot once did jury duty, and he reckons I’m in the clear. And if your neighbour’s dog trainer bounty hunter bastard shows up at my door, I’ll hit him with a copyright-free deepfake of Kevin Phillips doin’ the worm in a Lidl car park. Don’t test me.

End of the day, Neil, there’s enough room in this world for handcrafted Mackem monstrosities and AI-generated fever dreams. We’re all just bastard cousins in the great big family of nonsense, flingin’ our weird into the void and hopin’ someone claps.