Dyslexic cnut

Get with the times, Doc. The cunt is a DPD driver.

Ok. Mine shags a charismatic sex-god.

She’s got a load of ‘em WC, cluttering the wardrobes up, covered in dust while she tramps around town with a Lidl ‘bag-for-life’, which is hideously ironic in that that is what she is to me.

I’m no fan of the woman, but if she volleyed your foreskin-free, Hebrew helmet off this site I’d pay Billy to hand deliver one his finest firs to her stately home every year. If you’re going to stay, fuck that dopey red triangle off you tiresome, repetitive little twatkike.

Carl…you got a break because of Eric and some historical pass. Since then you’ve been an utter derelict mutant spastic. You should know better. Wind your fuckin neck in.

Fuck me. It’s a Lady Datejust. It’s three years old. She never wears the Cunt but put it on and thought it had stopped. She took it to a local jeweller for a ‘battery!’ She’s a fucking moron and the Cunt-jeweller who blagged her (and somehow opened the fucker) will be getting closely acquainted with my forehead, shortly.

Never realised you were Glans-averse, Gypps? How did that go down on the caravan site?

Are you being fucking serious on here? That useless cuntess has being royally cunted on here before. A male U12’s blind, quadraplegic Pygmy team would have wiped the fucking floor with any team that she played for ffs! Knock it off.

That was, erm, kinda the point WC. Woman’s a class one!

Don’t. The genius I married took her three year old Rolex to the jeweller’s for a new battery. Apparently the cunt opened it up, ‘did something’ then charged her £60 for the said imaginary battery. Anyway, apparently it ‘works fine’ now.

Why they couldn’t just stick to game shows like they did in the old days I’ll never know…

It’s done, for now. We’ve handed your entertainment over to Eric & Carl Sway. Enjoy.

You were doing so well with that lucid qualification and then you spoiled it. Maybe that’s what pisses us off here, the ‘it’s fab here and you’re all wankers living there’ can sort of grate? Whilst you’re definitely not in the same league as the fucktard spudcoon, you do bang on about all things UK and, let’s be honest, it’s never positive. That being said, all the best for Xmas…carry on cunting and I hope there’s a ravenous crocodile spider in your ash covered pool. Fuck off.

Is that it? Well fuck my old army boots….looks like it’s over, Roops…sound the death knell.

Fuck me…on a ‘precious’ day, she’s not only Googled ‘do you need a PLF to travel from Wales to N.Ireland?’ but also ‘Holyhead to Dublin sailing schedules.’ Looks like we’re fucked here, Bill…😉

Proper.

You horrible bully. You know the poor cow is ‘geographically challenged,’ she has previous after all what with her tracking me down to Amsterdam on the Rhöne River. How was the crossing, Bill? Cape Horn can be quite rough this time of year…right Roops? 🤷🏿

Desperate times Roops, desperate times.

What happened to ‘precious time’ Roops? If those guests turn up over Xmas and your gaff is filthy and unhoovered because you’ve been on here, no amount of mince pies and smart words are going to delay the inevitable. Final warning.

I made no nationalistic assertions, Bawso…just a nod to a minor ‘success’ over a good fucking hiding?..which hopefully, her husband is administering as we speak.

I thought you were enjoying ‘precious time?’ Fuck me, you’re never off here. Chill yer beans honey, Tim Booth is a close personal friend of mine and I know full well what the song is about. Focus on the title, it’s a little nod and Xmas gift praising your undoubted talents ❤️ Now…fuck off.

I think ‘fuck off Cunt’ is a perfectly acceptable and festive welcome to the site, Gypps…wait until the grown-ups kick his cunt off.

That would depend on your definition of ‘win!’ She’s had a minor Bannockburn of sorts, but the Duke of Ulster has brought reinforcements (not that any were really needed) and she’s now up to her vadge in entrails at Culloden. If she had any dignity left, she’d hand her sporran in, now.

One for Cuntess Roops.

Prof…it’s not officially Xmas until you’ve told a roll of cellotape to ‘fuck off!’