Cuntybaws

Now that I've seen your handwriting, Ape, would you like me to analyse it for you? That opening "E" is worrying, and those angrily dotted "i's" don't speak well for your blood pressure. (Or the quality of your pen, come to think of it.)

Chorlton-cum-Hardy?

Every time I eat a deep fried Mars Bar I hear the screams from the Ibrox disaster.

I can just picture him getting off at Shepherd's Bush.

I met the Venables cunt in a pub once, although for legal reasons I can't tell you where, or what name he was using. I told him I'd always wondered why they kidnapped a little boy rather than a little girl, but that I assumed it was because they were a pair of chickenshit Scouse fucking poofs.

If it can't be cured with a wire brush and Dettol then it isn't a proper disease.

"You know how when you see prime numbers, they appear red, but when they’re twin primes, they’re pink and smell like gasoline?"

It's one of the great polarising questions of the age - whether to spit or swallow.

Indeed, and if only Ding had said what you did, he'd have got all the "likes" instead of you. Life can be so unfair.

Every cunt on here has given you a kicking over the last few days but, like a brontosaurus, your brain has not received the message from your arse yet.

Oh. you've only gone and fucking done it now! It's going to be like High Plains Drifter on here for the next few days.

The number of the "Doggie". Poor old Ding, not so much on the ropes, as hanging from one.

LMFAO! This could almost be mistaken for vintage Frank - and by "vintage" I mean before he devolved into such an awful cunt.

The pizza equivalent of boil-in-the-bag Vesta curries. Fucking swill.

Q.E.D. (Or QED, as takes your fancy.)

No, I reckon that's exactly the size of her anus. The surrounding blue colour is a perfect match for her geriatric buttocks.

At this very moment! PS There's also a missing possessive apostrophe in "paupers grave", although exactly where it's missing from depends on how many paupers we're talking about.

I doubt they've had so much as a semi between them for several decades now.

It would have an entire fucking golf bag poking out, and you'd still be able to fit a few dozen hamsters up the sides.

Flidderminster Harriers.

...from the bloke who used to sell "stylish" glassware to fat Yanks at £2 grand a pop.

Right, I've let you all ramble on for three pages without satisfactorily resolving the question of whether Britons who emigrate to Australia are actually cunts or not, so I feel I must step in now with a definitive answer, In "Walkabout", a young Jenny Agutter spends all her time wandering through the Outback and swimming in limpid pools, dressed variously in school uniform, suspiciously clean white underwear, and sweet, sweet fuck all. If her British parents hadn't emigrated to Australia, this would not have happened. Therefore - not a cunt. The fact that we're better off here without the sort of whinging poms who choose to emigrate in the first place is just the icing on the cake.

I always thought that calling it a "glottal stop" was a particularly cruel trick to play on the Scots.

They don't make them like this any more.

You've either got or you haven't got style. And you, my friend, quite literally can't even spell it.