First I would study you intently. I'd follow you on the forums first of all, make you think that I liked your posting style, maybe send a sycophantic message about how much I enjoyed your content. After a while we'd be friends on Facebook or Google+ or whatever, either way I'd know who you really were inside and out, your hopes, dreams, fears. Then the fun begins. You'll get phone calls, emails, telemarketing people contacting you all hours of the night. Slowly your sanity will begin to erode, chipped away by never having a moment of peace. I'll know by now where in England you live, I'll find you. Mormons will come to your house, lots of them, then Jehovas Witnesses, and Taxi drivers. Life will be a never ending series of hellish encounters but you'll have one escape, a friend to call on, me. In your desperation you'll beg me to let you use my spare room and naturally, I'll agree. I'll meet you at the station, we'll go for a pint and a chat, you'll meet the wife and kids. It'll be such a relief for you being away from the harassment but soon your pain will multiply. You'll take a walk in the woods one evening to relax in the country air and there will I be. You'll never be found. No record of our friendship exists online, my name and age are fake, the most your family will know is that you went to East Anglia. CCTV outside the station loses you in a blind spot, they never see the car you get into. East Anglia is a big place and I know many hiding spots. But hey, in all seriousness, we should be friends.