Originally posted by @Jack-Schitt
Fuck! Damn you Pap, and your (my) over-inquisitive mind! You were never supposed to realise this! 
Now – everything is completely fucked!.
You haven’t heard my theories yet, which I’m sure the esteemed paradox department of the space time continuum will take even less seriously than yourself. Forgive me if I ape the style of the Wayne’s World movies. All these theories are predicated on future me (past you) getting access to a time machine, which is presumably in the Sotonians mansion.
Bad ending
Sotonians lies in ruins. bletch is dead. Complete Bollocks Fry is posting under his preferred moniker, He-who-must-not-be-named has fully reconstituted from the Screaming Mann horcrux. Goatboy’s van-denter wins the Euromillions and dents Goatboy’s van as often as he damn well pleases. Due to undiscovered financial irrregularities, Saints are investigated by the FA, who make the inexplicable decision to appoint Paul Merson as adjudicator. He orders that St Marys be dismantled and repurposed into ramps for to meet the 30-something motability demographic. With all seemed lost, future me (past you) stepped into the time machine, desperate to put right what once went wrong.
Scooby Doo Ending
Sotonians has been losing posters at a rate of knots, due to a spooky monster scaring all the posters. We have enlisted help. but two of their number have spent the majority of the investigation in the Sotonians Pantry making unfeasibly tall sandwiches. Despite repeated attempts to determine the spooky miscreant, future me (past you) has drawn a total blank, except for one thing. There’s a nagging feeling that one time, this bloke wasn’t too careful about covering his tracks one time, except he deleted the post and you’ve rinsed the logs. It’s destroying the site! You have to go back in time, get the address and find the traitor in our midst. You travel back a bit further than you need to because you can’t remember precisely when it was posted, then a bit further back still to put a few bets on (please tell me we made money off that Liverpool game!).
Time passes, and fuck all happens. No new posters in spooky monster form. Not only have you needlessly travelled through time, but everything is a repeat now, Sotonians in particular. The JS persona is good for a bit, but it’s not caused the ripples you wanted. You think, “you know what could be cool? Scooby Doo on Sotonians”. And to think, you’ve gotten away with it if not for this ridiculous theory.
Super Happy Ending
SarniaSaint signs up on Sotonians, and claims that he has invented a viable teleportation device. We say he’s bollocks. He materialises in a spare chair at the Rockstone, screams “watch this, limey fucks”, clicks his fingers and teleports the entire drinking party to Sarnia. Unhelpfully, he hasn’t provided any chairs, so arses hit the snow as soon as we arrived. Collectively stunned, the first words to leave anyone’s mouth are “He wasn’t bullshitting!”.
“It’s actually a lot easier than you think”, he says. “It would fucking have to be”, comes a reply. Despite that, the face to face does the usual magic, and not only does he teach us how to teleport (it is fucking easy) we also get assurances that he will not use his powers for ill, and nor do we.
Sotonians save the world. We use our powers to rapidly fabricate housing, food production and distribution is revolutionised. We end world hunger, make oil and war redundant. Distance is no longer a constraint, no-one has to commute. With free time multiplying a kind of utopia emerges, and we finally figure it all out (it wasn’t as hard as we thought).
An old man now, you travelled back in time to see where it all began.
If all goes well, everything will be fine, and you’ll simply have no recollection of this conversation. If it doesn’t – we’ll all be back on Fiver Central, paying Steve Grant for the dubious privilege of getting trolled by tedious twats and a handful of genuine fucking lunatics! Pray that this does not happen, and wish me (us) luck!
Regardless, it was a pleasure to briefly make our acquaintence in real-time. I wish you a long and happy life, for obvious reasons. 
Told ya before. You’re safe 
At least I do hope you heard it at any rate, or things are now even worse than I feared, and the current timeline I came back on has been completely severed! In which case, I only have until midnight to make the necessary repairs, or the universe will instantaneously and catastrophically implode! I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you – that nothing good would come of this.
)
