When I was a dead, I hadn't paid my core fines when I was really in trouble 10 or 11 years ago.

The bleepie flat broke, rent stopped paid, broke. I hated the mail. Every time I go to be mailman morning, I'd pray I got no letters or maybe one.

But when I got a stack, that's a stack of letters talking about you should have been here. You should have paid this. Now it's more.

Fuck, you owe me more money now. I had never once opened a piece of mail and it was like, hi Andrew, here's money.

Never, it's always high Andrew giving me money all the time. And when I was broke, I thought, whatever it reached, I had to make sure nobody can send me mail.

I don't want it. I've never had even good coming to mail. It's always a court date. You killed this guy. You drove with 200 miles an hour down the fucking highway. You owe me this much because of whatever is bullshit.

I'm sure right now, even though I have a net worth of 25 million dollars, if I had a place people would send me mail. People would still be sending me pieces of paper saying, I owe them shit.

Or I have to be somewhere who I spent in Austria. Tristan, we're in Austria last month. Were we speeding? Yes.

Has anyone talked to me about it since? No. Why? Because you can't send me mail. If I had a mailbox, there'd be some Austrian letter.

So, bullshit German. Good to talk. It's a bullshit. Maybe I'm supposed to, maybe I'm a wanted fugitive in Austria. Who the fuck knows? Who the fuck cares? Because this is being court today. But no, I'm not there. Do you know why? Because I have no mailbox. I have no mailbox. When I was broke, I thought, when I get rich, I'm not going to let anyone send me mail.

And by coincidence, I live in Romania, which is a terrible postal system, anyway. And I have a bunch of properties, no one knows their addresses, and we're sending it to. And now nobody can really send me mail. You can't really send me mail. Even the way my cars are registered and set up, you're going to end up looking up the number play, looking up where it's registered to some limited company. And I'm sending a letter to no one. No one's going to open it. Sorry, Austrians. Sorry. No one's opening your crap. Mail's trash.

And only broke people receiving. Because as a rich man, I ain't going to receive your mail. If you really want to talk to me, and it's that important, you'll find a way. I'll tell you what, getting a piece of paper and writing, give me money on it, and give me, get, and or take, give us money. Look on the computer. Here's his address.

Give the standard. And then a few days later, you actually receiving money. If I actually paid them, that would make me a loser.

Do you see how the world works? You're a loser. Someone out there goes, hmm, Joe Schmo, fuck Joe Schmo. He was enjoying his nice car on a nice road. Fuck. Joe Schmo, no fun allowed in the world.

Well, pay me this now. Look on the computer of peons to peon database. Oh, Joe Schmo, Joe Schmo, 123, Dork Road, who sends it.

Two days later, Joe Schmo, ring ring. Hello?

Who's Joe Schmo? Let me just find my credit card. Let me find the numbers. One, two, eight. And you pay them. And they're like, ha, ha, take off Joe Schmo, that door he gave us the money to get fun.

You're a loser. With me, it's, hmm, entertainer. He's enjoying his life. He's broken every single rule, entertainer, entertainer.

Okay, let's just send the letter to all 25 of them. Send. Wait by the phone. No call. No money. Shit. Okay, we'll send it again. Send. Wait by the phone. No call. No money.

Let's put up a price and let's drag. We're going to really put bailiffs and recover assets.

Send. You understand where I'm getting that? That fucking little bitch behind that desk. Consider letters for the next 200 fucking years.

You're ain't going to take my stuff. I'm not going to open your fucking letters. Fuck you and fuck the mayor.

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