Member Info for H2hooo

God the irony Red lol.

At this point, I’m just here for the laughs. I mean, some of you genuinely think this forum is a place of high office—like your posts are being reviewed by parliamentary committee.

Meanwhile, I’m sat here marvelling at the same three angry avatars cycling through conspiracy, grammar lessons, and “I-remember-what-you-said-in-2019” tantrums.

Honestly, it's not investing anymore—it's performance art. Keep dancing. I’ll bring snacks.

Hey red - is this more to your liking? TP3: 1 dump. Me: 3 flushes.

Apologies, genuinely, to the rest of the LSE board. You didn’t sign up for this surreal Punch & Judy rerun, dragged out daily by a man whose breakfast routine is only slightly more regular than his grasp on reality.

It started with shares. It’s now somehow morphed into a Dan Brown fan-fiction starring a self-declared gasification expert with a persecution complex and a bizarre fixation on my academic credentials — all fuelled by what I can only assume is weaponised constipation.

I’m aware it’s tedious. Trust me, no one’s more bored of it than me. But sometimes, when someone posts daily essays laced with bile, delusion, and the occasional whiff of garlic granola, you feel compelled to respond — if only to stop the spread of secondhand embarrassment.

So yes, I’m still here. No, I haven’t been kicked off Telegram (I run the thing, darling). And no, I’m not being paid in secret shares for defending a company I actually believe in — though if PHE ever wants to chuck me a few quid for playing whack-a-troll, I’ll send them my rates.

For those who’ve been caught in the crossfire, thanks for bearing with. Hopefully we’ll get back to real discussions soon — assuming the forum doesn’t get swallowed by one man’s South American breakfast journal.

So here’s your attention, served hot. Not because you deserve it, but because sometimes even the village pedant needs to be reminded that spelling out Latin phrases doesn’t make you clever — it just makes you the sort of man who thinks saying “QED” is a mic drop. It isn’t. It’s a cry for help.

Now go take your fibre and have a lie down. You’ve earned it, Professor.

Oh Testpack.

Here you are again — clockwork as ever — frothing onto your keyboard with the fervour of a man freshly unblocked. Café da manhã time in Copacabana, and like a pigeon with IBS, you flap into the forum and drop yet another steaming pile of quasi-intellectual guano. I must say, your consistency is admirable — if not in argument, then certainly in bowel movement.

Now, before we descend into another labyrinthine rant stitched together with ellipses and half-remembered conspiracy theories, let’s clear up some basics. You keep parroting that I was “booted off TG.” I run the group. Own it. Moderate it. If I were any more ‘not booted’, I’d be welded to the admin panel. This isn’t even a matter of opinion — it’s a binary state of fact. But facts and you have always had a somewhat estranged relationship, haven’t they?

Let’s move to your beloved SPV anecdote. Yes, that fever dream from over three years ago. You clutch it like Gollum and his ring, mistaking a long-forgotten forum thread for some sort of intellectual triumph. Here's a fun exercise for you: step back, take a breath, and ask yourself — is your entire adult identity now built around an argument about a Special Purpose Vehicle from 2021? If so, I truly admire your commitment to mediocrity.

Ah, and the PhD thing again. I’m touched you still care. For the record — and I realise you struggle with records unless they’re spinning jazz in a Rio café — I earned it in the UK. The University of Hertfordshire, not Auckland. You might consider jotting that down between bites of your strawberry-granola blend. As for your laughable reference to “plagiarism,” do grow up. Your “source” is probably the same fevered brain that believes I moonlight as four other aliases and am secretly funded by MI6 and the ghost of Myles Coverdale.

You bang on about “grammar” while committing the kind of crimes against English that would have Orwell digging up his own corpse. Semi-colons used like confetti, comma splices that could fell a goat, and your uncanny ability to misuse quotation marks like a man trying to eat soup with a rake. And then there’s “quiet humbled.” I assume that was meant to be “quite.” But hey, maybe it’s just an ironic nod to your own self-awareness? No? Didn't think so.

Let’s not forget the pièce de résistance — your attempt at humour. Comparing yourself to Dan Brown and Charles Dickens in the same post? I haven’t seen such misplaced confidence since Kanye ran for President. You’re not a literary figure, Testpack — you’re the comma splice in the sentence of this board, unnecessary and disruptive.

As for your desperate jabs at my supposed “partner”, your obsession with pairing me off with ohdearswaz is now at full-blown fan fiction levels. It’s like you’re writing bad slash fiction in your head, fuelled by coconut milk and spite. Honestly, I’m starting to think you don’t want us to re

Ah, there it is — another Testpack transmission, like clockwork. Right on cue with the Copacabana Constipation Chronicles. Honestly, the timing’s uncanny. It’s always breakfast in Brazil and bile on the forums. Ever thought the problem isn’t fibre, but that you're just full of it?

Let’s clear a few things up, since you’re obviously floundering in your own fiction.

First: I wasn’t kicked off Telegram — I run the bloody group. So unless I’m booting myself out in my sleep, your little fantasy belongs on Wattpad, not here. You’re stood outside the party throwing stones at the windows and calling it insight.

Second: My PhD? UK-based. University of Hertfordshire. Not Auckland. I moved back in 2013. So your long-running conspiracy theory built on vanished posts and imaginary nephews is about as credible as your spelling.

Third: you never filtered me — I filtered you. And like any addict deprived of a hit, you’ve spiralled. That little ego of yours, so fragile it trembles if it’s not being fed, can’t handle being ignored. So now you’re back, droning on like a broken Alexa, hoping someone cares. Spoiler: still no one does.

Fourth: The SPV chat from three years ago? You’ve been clinging to that like a teddy bear after a nightmare. Most people forgot. You archived it like it’s the Dead Sea Scrolls. You really are the high priest of irrelevance.

And finally — the grammar. Christ. “Yr”, “beut”, “t’other”? Are you roleplaying a Dickensian chimney sweep now? You bang on about fake PhDs and yet can’t construct a sentence that doesn’t look like it’s been through a blender.

You’re not debating. You’re begging for attention. Every rant, every post, is less about PHE and more about you feeding the mirror. A narcissist cut off from supply, trying to scratch meaning into his day with keyboard diarrhoea.

So rage away, Testpack. I’ll be over here, sipping tea, living rent-free in your oddly-timed, grammatically-atrocious, fibre-deprived head. BTW - look elsewhere for someone who deleted your posts, my guess is your feeble attempt at bigotry.

oh testpack, still rattling your maracas in copacabana like it’s 2009 and you’re the samba king of semantics.

let’s clear a few things up, since your latest diatribe reads like a dan brown knockoff penned in crayon. first, breakfast. yes, i joked about your digestive cycle aligning with your daily rage post — you know, a bit of humour. but now you've self-confirmed it with the kind of obsessive detail usually reserved for nutrition blogs and hostage letters. granola with a pinch of salt? very “gasification chic.”

second, you’ve pulled your greatest hit out again: the auckland myth. no, i didn’t study in new zealand. i’ve been back in the uk since 2013 and earned my phd at the university of hertfordshire. you’ve been banging that auckland drum for so long it’s got more holes in it than your arguments. nice try, but maybe have a word with your “jaffa” nephew — assuming he’s not just a rogue fibre hallucination brought on by too much hot almond milk.

third, let’s talk filtering. i filtered you, not the other way around. that’s right — the hypocrite testpack saga continues. but like anyone peeking back at an old soap opera, curiosity got the better of me. what did i find? you, still screeching about qualifications like a man whose own cv was eaten by the dog.

as for the bizarre theory about phe paying me in shares for a community engagement survey? no, not everything has a sinister motive. i did it because i believed in the tech, and because someone had to counterbalance the relentless negativity from a man who seems to think “posting on aim forums” is a full-time profession. but sure, i’ll pass your payment theory to the phe finance team. i’m sure they’ll laugh as much as i did.

and that final jab? turkish steam baths? oh please. you've gone from conspiracy theorist to bad panto villain. do try to stay focused, testpack. it’s getting hard to tell if your next post will be about hydrogen, homeopathy, or ****phobic innuendo. either way, just remember: i don’t owe you an explanation, and i certainly don’t require your permission to post here or anywhere else. the filter button’s still there — might want to reacquaint yourself with it before the rage fibre kicks in again.

toodlepip.

Nope, bored.

Lol, pot, kettle much?

Oh, and by the way — before you run off to scribble your next Copacabana conspiracy on the back of a napkin, let's mop up the latest splatter of nonsense.

You dragged in some wild tale about a nephew in Auckland being your “source”? Adorable. But next time you try to build a narrative, you might want to check the timeline first. See, I moved back to the UK in 2013 — and I completed my PhD right here in the UK, at the University of Hertfordshire, long before your imaginary Kiwi informant allegedly spotted me weaving academic deceit through the streets of Auckland.

So unless your Jaffa nephew has the gift of time travel and a LinkedIn account that covers multiple continents, you might want to recalibrate that internal compass of yours — it’s pointing somewhere between fantasy and farce. In short? Nice try. But your conspiracy just tripped over its own shoelaces, and I wasn’t even watching.

So, let me wrap this up — because, unlike you, I don’t need to pad my replies with your breakfast menu. I’ve nothing to prove, and certainly nothing to confess. I run the Telegram group you claim I was "booted" from — which is impressive, even for someone who thinks name-dropping a Jaffa nephew constitutes a mic drop. I never once offered share price advice or told anyone to buy anything. People have free will — if you don’t like it, shout at a cloud.

But do keep going, won’t you? You’re fast becoming my favourite performance artist. A walking contradiction, stuffed with comma splices and casual slurs, masquerading as the voice of reason. You remind me of an old modem — loud, outdated, and permanently stuck on dial-up.

Now go have your oats, darling. You’ve earned them.

ah, the return of testpack — patron saint of punctuation crimes and breakfast oversharer-in-chief. i see you’ve returned from another fibre-rich rage-fest on your copacabana veranda, keyboard in one hand, granola spoon in the other, hurling accusations like toast crumbs at a passing pigeon. bravo.

so now we’re dragging in a nephew from auckland? a jaffa, no less — just another flipping aucklander — as we say with great affection back in new zealand. honestly, who introduces a third-party source and manages to make it sound like the lad’s sending encrypted updates via conch shell? “my source says…” what are you, the mi6 of mediocre forum bantz?

let’s also raise a toast — perhaps a wheat-free one — to your latest outburst about my “failed thesis.?” that’s quite the punctuation ****tail you’ve mixed there: a full stop and a question mark, followed by a capital t just to keep things spicy. honestly, if grammatical confusion were a currency, you’d have funded the ftu by now.

and then we have “yr” — a charming abbreviation i last saw on a nokia 3210. is this your attempt at cool? or were you just trying to conserve characters between sips of almond milk?

but don’t worry — i get it. you’re upset. a phd sends you into a froth like a badly poured espresso, because you’re still stuck trying to make ‘smr’ sound like something more than a wikipedia skim. i remember that one too. you tried to dunk on me years ago for calling it steam reformation, while you galloped about bleating "steam reforming, fool!" — completely ignoring the fact that, semantically, both have been used in academic literature since before you were polishing your first empada.

but it’s never really been about the tech, has it? no. this has always been about you — the moral custodian of the lse forum, filtering and unfiltering like a hormonal teenager deciding whether to text their ex. you rant about people following me, and yet you can’t stop reading every word i write. you claim you’ve filtered me, yet here you are — again — tripping over your own bile to get the last word in. freud would have had a field day with you. jung, too. possibly even darwin.

as for your bizarre obsession with aliases — listen, mate. i’m not “theone”, i’m not “thefraud”, i’m not even remotely interested in role-playing your little internet noir. i post as me, openly. meanwhile, you’re the one lobbing barbs from behind a rotating carousel of nonsense like some sort of schizophrenic pantomime villain.

and let’s not pretend your tone is one of constructive discussion. this isn’t socratic debate — it’s a pensioner’s whatsapp chain fused with the daily mail comments section. every post dripping with bitterness, conspiracy, and just a touch of closeted spite. your attempts at humour feel like knock-off clarkson with a hangover, and your obsession with who said what, when, and how many times would make rain

DrAl - Under UK Market Abuse Regulation (MAR), directors (or PDMRs – persons discharging managerial responsibilities) can’t trade if they’re in possession of inside information, and they’re also generally restricted from trading during a ‘closed period’ — typically the 30 days before results are published.

Outside of those blackout windows, if they’re not in possession of inside info, they’re usually free to trade — but the company’s compliance officer still needs to give clearance. So, there’s no fixed “minimum gap” between a purchase and company news — it just can’t be because of the news.

If news comes out soon after the purchase, it might raise eyebrows — but as long as proper procedures were followed, there’s nothing inherently wrong. Still, always looks better when the timing doesn’t require a lawyer and a whiteboard to explain.

Ah, perfect timing — just as the coffee hits in Brazil and the fibre doesn't. Once again, Hypocrite Testpack logs on for his daily rage dump, pounding out another barely punctuated novella of projection and petulance, all before the toast’s even buttered. I imagine the keyboard’s barely recovered from yesterday’s meltdown.

Let’s unpack the usual mess. A director buys shares with his own money, and somehow that becomes your victory lap. You twist it into another bizarre attack on charts, on posts you don’t like, and naturally, on the “Three Stooges” — a nickname you repeat so often it’s starting to sound like you’re trying to trademark it. The idea that this board is a battleground between you and three men who have the audacity to post more than once a week is very on-brand. Unhinged. Delusional. Predictable.

Then we get your linguistic crusade. You’re still banging on about my use of “they” when referring to a company, like it’s some crime against grammar that disqualifies every point I’ve made. A singular slip, wielded by a man who regularly butchers punctuation like he’s chasing it around a dark alley with a chisel. And for the record — my PhD is in economics, not English, but don’t let reality interfere with your fantasy island.

Speaking of fantasy — your obsession with who “bats for the other side” is… well, revealing. I can’t tell if you’re trying to insult me, compliment me, or just working something out in public. But dragging in 4 million people from a Madonna and Gaga concert to try and build your psychological profile of strangers on an AIM forum is absolutely deranged. That’s not research, that’s a cry for help wrapped in a sunburn.

And the final flourish: an unprovoked attack on Dusty. Because, naturally, anyone who doesn’t instantly agree with your bile must be unemployed, delusional, and part of a secret cabal designed to antagonise you personally. That’s not analysis — it’s narcissism with a VPN.

So let’s set the record straight: I unfiltered you out of curiosity. The same way you might lift a bin lid to check if the smell really is coming from inside. Turns out it was. Still is.

You accuse others of “thinking they’re important,” yet you write like a man genuinely convinced his approval ratings matter. You see conspiracies in usernames, romantic fantasies in weekend posting patterns, and sinister plots in the use of plural pronouns. And now, you’re logging on every morning, tapping out deranged critiques between bowls of papaya, and wondering why no one takes you seriously.

You’ve become what you most despise: a man shouting endlessly, into the void, convinced the void is listening.

Anyway, enjoy the constipation. Try coffee. And fibre. Maybe a walk. Something — anything — to loosen the grip that AIM has on your bowels and your identity.

Sure, you can find it in the Google Play Store or Apple Store - there is a Windows version as well if you fancy the full-screen type experience rather than a phone.

Dusty — appreciate the tone, and I respect that approach. Giving people the benefit of the doubt is a rare commodity on these boards, and it speaks well of you. For what it’s worth, you’ve never come across as anything other than balanced and thoughtful.

This isn’t a closed shop, and you certainly don’t need to be an “expert” to participate — half the value in discussion comes from people asking questions or spotting angles others miss. We’re all learning, and frankly, if someone can’t explain a point without resorting to arrogance or belittling others, it says more about them than their credentials.

Jargon can trip anyone up — that’s just noise. The real value is in intent, tone, and curiosity. You’ve got all three. No one here expects agreement across the board, just an honest, reasoned exchange. Interject when you like — or just lurk and digest. Either way, you’re welcome.

I'm not sure Dusty, as most people just use their names, so possibly - but there's an open invite, and you are welcome - we don't bite! Regarding LSE, I complained a few years ago, but they don't want to provide effective moderation, which I think is a great shame. Hence, the reason for a moderated group. My guess is that the hostility towards me here is because they know they can't just join and disrupt the Telegram group. It's not an echo chamber; sure, I'm a PHE fanboy - but what else would I be to set up a forum and moderate it in the first place? I just noticed that the poison on this forum over the past week is making everyone sick.

Ah, Testpack — still rage-posting from Brazil, still confusing repetition with relevance, and still clinging to the same tired obsessions like a man yelling at clouds. First up: no, I haven’t been kicked off Telegram. That would be quite something, considering I own and run the group. But cheers for the concern. Honestly, accusing the admin of being removed is peak numpty — even by your standards.

Now onto the usual comedy set: I’m “paid to post,” I’ve changed avatars, I’m “DrAnomoly,” “H2hoo,” and of course your latest fever dream — “TheOne.” Spoiler: I’m not TheOne, but your obsession with stitching together a cast of characters for your own deluded little Netflix drama is quite something. DrAnomoly was a comic book reference — niche, harmless, and used years before I got my PhD (which, yes, was awarded in 2019 — sorry that still keeps you up at night). “H2hoo” is just a handle, not a manifesto. The only conspiracy here is how many hours you’ve spent turning usernames into a detective novel no one asked for.

Now let’s revisit your most treasured relic — the SMR moment. Yes, I once casually said “steam reformation” instead of “steam methane reforming.” It was shorthand, not a career-ending blunder. But you’ve clung to it like it’s the highlight of your adult life. A single word from years ago is still fuelling your imagined superiority complex. That’s not technical rigour, it’s textbook Dunning-Kruger. Real experts don’t need to remind everyone they’re experts in every post. You? You've been waving your "qualifications" around like a sad flag at half-mast since the board had dial-up.

You accuse me of giving advice, but here’s the thing: I’ve never told anyone to buy, sell, or hold a single share. Not once. I post opinions. You post accusations. And yet you somehow still hold a position in the very company you’ve spent years trying to discredit. That’s not principled scepticism — that’s emotional confusion.

You go on about filters — yes, I had you filtered. For years. But curiosity got the better of me recently and, lo and behold, there you were: still howling at your imaginary enemies, still convinced you’re some misunderstood genius in a world of paid stooges.

So no, I won’t be "refraining from my nonsense." I’ll post where I like, when I like, and the fact that it rattles you is just a bonus. But at least try to get your facts straight next time. You’ve now been debunked so thoroughly I’m tempted to pin your posts in the Telegram group as a case study in what happens when bitterness, boredom, and broadband collide.

Now go enjoy your rage poop and tell yourself you’ve won. Again.

Ah Red, the gift that keeps on droning. You’ve spent half a week claiming you’re not bothered, not interested, and definitely not replying for my benefit — and yet, here you are again, hunched over the keyboard like a man angrily writing a breakup letter to someone he insists he never dated.

Let’s break this down for the final time, since you’ve clearly lost control of the script:

You claim I can’t stick to “last word,” while sprinting back here after every post like a forum Labrador chasing its own outrage.

You accuse me of bitterness, yet you’re the one who’s spent several days foaming about a stock you say you don’t hold. That’s not healthy, Red. That’s just weird.

You cry “waffle!” at anything over two sentences because you’ve forgotten what a structured thought looks like. Sorry, not all of us communicate in grunts and half-memory.

And your closer? A little fantasy about Swazers and me tag-team wrestling? Genuinely bizarre. If that’s what’s on your mind, you may need to clear your browser history and take a walk.

But here’s the cherry on top — the CFO’s just bought more shares. While you’re here shadowboxing ghosts and accusing people of secret ramping campaigns, the people actually in the business are putting their money where their mouths are.

So here’s my final word, and this time I mean it: enjoy shouting into the void, Red. You’ve mistaken noise for impact. You’ve mistaken paranoia for principle. And most of all, you’ve mistaken everyone’s silence over the years as agreement — when really, we were just bored.