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nocti

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About nocti

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    Epic Cunt

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  1. That's the M. Night Shyamalan twist ending that nobody expects, a good call but certainly an outsider bet. Personally, I'm opting for the Michael Bay one, where he has that one more rear-ending that tips his insides over the edge, and he explodes in a fucking cascade of spunk, blood and all the leftover bullshit he never got round to spouting on here.
  2. Beautifully written, Tel. As a little aside from the motor industry you must be taking by storm, have you considered a foray into penning children's books? I can almost see the Quentin Blake-style illustrations now, especially for the end of that last paragraph there.
  3. His grasp can't be as tight as you make out, as it appears the other 5% go on drugs; look what it's done to the silly cunt.
  4. If a quick stop-off in their motorway services is anything to go by, these ghastly things are all the fucking rage in Telford; which also appears to be the answer to that oft-asked question: "What the fuck happened to all the bearded ladies in circus troupes?" Here's one modeled by strangely fuckable banshee, Carol Voldemort.
  5. Once again Rev, your sentimental musings make Byron sound like Jeremy Clarkson. I bet if any of them were reading this now, they'd go weak at the knees. But that's because you'd have already got to them with the cloroform, you soppy old goat.
  6. Kill yourself.
  7. She looks like if Jocelyn Wildenstein went to work as a beekeeper on non-uniform day, and had her lunch break at an all-you-can-eat sealife centre. Three pinter for Neil I reckon.
  8. It's not. Fucking sort yourself out you stupid cunt. I expect better of you Olly.
  9. That was actually the only part that I meant as a compliment. The joystick vibrated and everything. Although I'm sure you know that. I bet most of them smelt of your fanny back in the day.
  10. I genuinely couldn’t care any fucking less. The cunts at work booked me on a flight with these, and that was enough for me. I’d never use them again, even if they dropped their prices to pennies and I actually had enough room to scratch my fucking bollocks in one of their concrete shit-stained seats. The pilots always sound like they learnt to fly by playing After Burner a few times in the 90's, and the air “hostesses” look like rehabilitated silverbacks. I hope O'Leary's cock falls off, and he gets stuck in a lift with at least two members of East 17. On the same day.
  11. That wouldn't go amiss actually. I always end up fucking cremating mine.
  12. All the visually alluring ones must be back on solids now, whilst all the remaining "proper" lesbians are at some pointless rally or other, knitting bras out of fucking kale, then probably burning them, the ugly, calorie-stockpiling, indignant fucking ham planet cunts.
  13. This is veering perilously close to Prof fucking B territory. A few shitty emojis and you'd be there, you soppy old virago. Time for a reset. Travel broadens the mind, they say. Try going somewhere untouched by modern civilisation, without signal or wifi. Leicester perhaps?
  14. Fuck, that never even occurred to me. I hope to Odin that it was intentional.
  15. Pen, you seem to be spouting utter fucking shite with a lot more gusto just lately. Have all your cats died?