Jiggerycock

Witnessed one of these on Sabbaths 'Heaven and Hell Tour' in about 1981. Seven minutes into Bill Ward's tub-thumping and would you believe it, I lost count of the number of bricks in the roof of the Hammersmith Odeon. It was more than 256 though.

Oh how quaint! You could put up 'Ian Huntley' as a nom - and within three postings it'll be: 'You're gay!' 'No YOU'RE gay! 'Well your gay!' 'Well your gay what?' 'Well you're Hitler!' 'Well at least Hitler wasn't gay' 'Hitler was gay and he had a gay moustache!' 'Poof...gay...shitstabbing Hitler...poof..lederhosen...gay!!'

He has a plug lodged in his wall!!!!? My God, the enormity of his perversion knows no bounds! Oh...an ELECTRIC plug....I see now...carry on....

No you're not. St Enodoc is fucking shit, especially when the wind gets up and you're forced to use fairway woods instead of something more lofted to hit the greens in regulation. Get your Simian arse back up to civilization, stop fucking around and kick the shit out of Celtic Manor. Oh and lay off the Clotted Cream you corpulent bastard.

Multitasking show offs!

Oh come on! Who cannot fail to be thrilled by Ian Wright's attempts to form a coherent sentence? By Slaven Bilic's utter (and justifiable) contempt for his fellow panellists? For Mark Lawrenson's attempts to guide us through the permutations for the next round and the gay way he says the word 'moment'? Of the homo-erotic passion-play in running between Danny Murphy and Jonathan Pearce? You're all making the mistake of watching it for the football, when it's the commentators and pundits that have all the drama of Gielgud's 'Lear' at Stratford in '53!

We can also quite reasonably speculate as to whether it's 'crispy bedsheets' chez Cliff or if he's got biceps the size of canteloupes and forearms like Popeye. Because the Sue Barker thing was a long, long time ago for the ascetic, botoxed old crooner.

Also people who don't understand what metal detectors at airports detect, walking through them with the look of bovine surprise when that key chain and 80,000 keys attached to it lights the thing up like a Vegas slot machine paying out the jackpot.

Didn't expect The Corner to be here this morning. Like some giant CERN experiment gone wrong, I thought it might have consumed itself in the confusion generated by the mindless slaughter of, after Gingers, CC'ers favourite victim group - only to realise it was perpetrated by one of the joybringers of the Religion of Peace, bringing down his particular vision of cultural diversity and enrichment. I thought the confusion would have been like 10,000 Nagasakis

Football is for Irons, right? The English fans were all pissed. So we have a bunch of gay alcoholics taunting ISIS, I mean if there were a smattering of women and trade unionists in there too, you'd pretty much have the ISIS target 'Top Trumps' card. Your move, beardies.

Better still, have his sperm frozen by Clouseau dangling his bollocks in a bucket of dri-ice. We're back in 'Greg Rutherford' territory again here, sort of, aren't we?

"ISIS Where Are You?" Back home in Rotherham. Bradford, Oxford and Aylesbury, raping your teenage daughters, you hopeless cunts

Not the attitude I'd been given to expect from the HE Bates novel I've been reading.

I think the clue is in the words 'the one he posted 19 hours ago' . Allowing for the twittering that has to cross the gaping chasm that comprise your synapses, for you to stop touching yourself, sort out the idiot lexicon that comprises your vocabulary, re-arrange it into something approximating communication, add in 'public school....rent-boy....Catholic.....golf club and Cheshire' then master the basic motor skills to get your rat-fink claws to tap out your post, it'll have gone up to 22 hours.

See Witheredscrote 19 hours ago I know you're an ageing pervert in the autumn of your years, but really, do try and keep up

Have a bunch of 'Likes' everyone! Do you know, when you first came in here I knew you were services men. You can never, never disguise it.

Not only will they walk, they will be re-invented as poster-boys for unfettered, buccaneering Capitalism at its finest.

Guatemalan and Nicaraguan coffee tastes like bum-gravy, but soppy 'right-on' types from Islington were convinced they were one small step away from being card-carrying Sandidista's every time they bought some of this whalecock, back in the 80's.

Did you catch the coverage of the enquiry yesterday? A bigger backstabbing, conniving, Machiavellian bunch you'd be hard pressed to find this side of the Chelsea FC dressing room (yes, yes 'Football is for Irons'. Bore off! The analogy works a treat!)

Okay, in all seriousness, there's children dying in hideous fashion in Aleppo, the Zika Virus is running amok in Brazil and Richard Huckle has just hit the primetime and the collective reaction? Smoke a Woodbine with your left hand and carry on scratching your bollocks with your right. But the thought of this Ginger leaper running up to the cryogenics facility, bearing a yoghurt pot and a dog eared copy of Razzle, ready to send his knuckle-children to their new home in the sun, well I don't know about you lot, but you've got stronger intestinal fortitude than me if you can live with that image.

"Thirteen million Londoners have to cope with this, and baked beans and All bran and rape, and I'm sitting in this bloody shack! I must be out of my mind! I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear anything. Oh God, it's a nightmare out there I tell you."

Have you been peeking through my curtains again, you little voyeur!

Never mind Tiredness Killing. Having to go to Wolverhampton is like a slow march to the gas chamber

Goes for the louche air of a 1975 Bryan Ferry but with a voice that's pure 1975 Davros. Plus he doesn't look very well now either. Bulimia? Punkape, paint your cock to look like a Jaffa Roll and go and hang around outside his house. That'll sort it out one way or another and you'll love the attention.

'Mortal Kombat'? Is that one of those legal highs that turns you into an International Cunt Circus, with the strength of 12 Lions?