Jiggerycock

That Izal stuff just smeared it around a bit, never removed it - the arsewipe of choice for all 'H' Block prisoners apparently.

I deal with a bloke who spent the whole of spring bank holiday this year surgically removing each and every daisy from his lawn, cutting out every stem roots and all, by hand, using something that sounds like a cross between an apple corer and a miniature trowel. With someone that obsessive / compulsive, you can do nothing but laugh straight in their stupid face.

I've run out of 'likes' otherwise you'd all be getting a smacking great kiss on your big sweaty old chuffs, for the life-affirming confirmation that people will go off on one at the slightest courting of an 'unacceptable prejudice' 'Guardianistas....'vegans'....there was definitely a 'racist' flying around back there too. I'm at the vinegar strokes so if someone could hurl a 'Nazi' or throw in a 'as bad as Hitler' or a big old 'LIBERAL!!' epithet, I'm pretty sure I'm going to cum like a tsunami!

Depends if this whole 'love' concept depended on my daughter having her clitoris removed with a rusty flint, then sold on e-bay

Do you have a dilated Weltanschauung - or do you always walk that way?

Begging your pardon but those 'basing their religion around the shrine of Old Trafford' are generally found in Canterbury, Manila and Cape Town

He's the guy I posted about earlier in this thread. Paralympic athlete who is delaying surgery to a tumour on his spinal column to carry on training for Rio. Who the fuck is Diego Costa?

For anyone online right now, my friend (Dave Smith) is about to be featured on the BBC Ten O'clock News. Run, do not walk, to the nearest TV and take a look and get inspired

Okay, I make no opinionated comment on the religious orientation of the pilgrims. I'm not about putting down Islam. I know dick about Islam. The rest of my OP was fact.

Probably too busy dicking around on their i-Phones or programming their on-board, in-car entertainment systems (My God! Was there anything wrong with a tinnitus-inducing heap of shit radio, permanently tuned to some Punjabi Bhangra music channel?). The amount of computing power these jokers have at their fingertips, they should be on the ruddy Space programme. Either that or they're haiku-writing motherfuckers, who will only move 'when the karma is right'. Either way they need a RPG up their tailpipe most ricky-tick

Once again I find myself at cross-purposes with the Corner, in that I thought this was going to be a thoroughly deserved evisceration of that painfully right-on dirge by Tracy Chapman. "Poor people will rise up". No they bloody won't! Poor people are too busy wanting to get ripped to the gills on cheap speed and Alcopops

And here was me thinking Stickers was going to post the grainy footage of GG Allin's last gig, where he flings his own faeces at the audience, runs naked through New York then has a massive overdose whilst everyone carries on the party around him.

I make no comment on the religious orientation of the pilgrims. Hey, what ever gets you through the night and go with your bad selves. But every year it's the same. Every year it's a 'Homage To Hillsborough' as a mass stampede of religion-infused nutters results in a big old Muslim Chutney and much wailing and gnashing of teeth. I mean for fucks sake when will these people learn? It'd be (marginally) safer for them to visit an air show and they can still get to wonder over some big old entity in the sky as it rains death and destruction down upon them.

You've not lived until you've sunk the Tirpitz in a Greek chod-bin. Think the scene in 'Trainspotting' where Renton retrieves his wrap from the mankiest toilet in Scotland (ask Baws if you don't know what I'm shiteing on about - he'll learn yers!) Got that vignette firmly fixed in your mind? Good. Now add 'Eau de Bobby Sands-era H-Block' aroma. Throw in badly scribbled donky-porn graffiti on the walls and used shitwipes in open bin but one foot away. Simmer in sweltering 90 degree heat and top off with Greek bloke in next cubicle grunting 'Hey! Eeeengleesh! You are sometimes gay, yes?' and you have the whole sorry tableau in all it's depressing glory.

It's like wearing a loud tie or being the one who has the 'You don't have to be mad to work here - but it helps' sticker on their PC. It's the idiot's sign that says 'I don't actually have a sense of humour, but, watch out because I like people to think I'm a bit 'avant' ...a bit 'be-bop', instead of the lonely bedsit ghost that goes home every night and cries themselves to sleep. listening to Melody Radio, surrounded by a 1001 cats, scatter cushions and cabbage patch dolls (women) / empty Dorito's packets / wanksocks (blokes)' Actually come to think of it, their probably channelling that irritating digital shit-farm robot 'Brian' from those fucking wank adverts, so in a sense, they're probably correct.

Well that and the Cornish Cream Tea - which is 'Jam first, clotted cream second' (these are instructions for what to put on a scone, not a description of a Cornish woman's menstruate). The Devonian Heretics would have it 'Cream first, Jam on top' but I think they were all taken out and executed in the 'Coffee Shop Purges' in the late 1980's. .....or something.

I bloody love Cornwall me and have had some of the best holidays of my life surfing and bodyboarding down there. However, these white-cross-on-black-background-sporting motherfuckers all want a word with themselves. Not black, gay, female or generally oppressed? No problem! Yes you too can get to be a right-on victim, even if you are 'The Man'. Pretend you're part of the long-lost Gaelic brotherhood (including Brittany. I mean FFS Brittany, you soft cunts!) and be rude to 'Grockles' even though tourism accounts for 99.9 % of your county's GDP (the other .1% coming from the BBC and their spend on producing 'Poldark'). Grow up you stupid buggers! Global warming means the Tamar is now dry and Basil Trelawney was a cunt.

.....or owned a stately home in Cheshire? Or went to an expensive Public School? Or was the Godson of Norman St John Stevas? Only they say Punkape was banned but I think this little revelation is far closer to the truth.

There's a load of houses that have been the subject of compulsory purchase orders, ahead of the building of HS2. We could put a lot of refugees / economic migrants in them, slap bang in the middle of the Tory-voting NIMBY's back yards. There we go - problem solved.

All that, yes - but you've got to love the opening ceremonies. A load of pretentious wank, played out before a bunch of tanked up, steroid-amped 'slabs 'o beef', that just want to do some close harmony singing, yet have to watch an hours worth of effete tomfoolery first. Meanwhile, a bemused Eddie Butler and Brian Moore (or whoever ITV have whistled up for their coverage) have to channel Will Gompertz, and find some depth and meaning in the shitfest unfolding in front of them.

There's this bloke I know. He's a Paralympic gold medallist, who has this genetic tumour that is lodged on his spinal cord. He's had surgery twice to try to keep the damn thing down, once in the run up to the London Olympics in 2012 and again a couple of years back, cutting right across his training for Rio next year. He went back into hospital for a check up last week. Turns out the thing is back and if it grows another 8mm then it paralyses his lungs, he stops breathing, does the funky chicken for 20 seconds then it's 'bag 'em and tag 'em' time. Presented with this, he's foregoing another lot of surgery a. to pursue his dream of qualifying for Rio and b. to avoid putting his family (mother especially) through another several months of heartache and wondering and praying and sleepless nights (of course, it's a whoopee-cushion for the bloke himself). He writes "I am sitting crying as I write this as all I want to do is have a normal life and do my sport. I am scared that I might never have that and will I ever have the chance to tell someone I love them, will I ever live without the fear of this tumour". That's why I cannot take this Costa dildo and all of his pampered, preening, conniving piece-of-shit colleagues seriously. Fucking pricks.

Drinking Tetleys Bitter, not like those shandy-drinking Southern-poof clap, pox and itch germs.!

There's another one 'The Devil will make work for idle hands to do' with which I suspect you are all too familiar.

Rather like Snow White when she threw a party to celebrate the dwarves birthday, I've set the bar too high

If some components - for the wings of a Boeing 747 say - are not milled to tolerance levels going into several significant figures, then there is a real risk of catastrophic failure and much spilling of claret, certainly enough to ruin the day of any tourist suddenly finding themselves being turned into strawberry jam as their body comes into sudden, violent and unexpected contact with fragments of red-hot engine casing. No, it's not that kind of perfectionism I'm twitting on about. It's cunts (for there can be no other nomenclature) that won't drink the coffee you've thoughtfully made for them 'because it's a bit too milky' or diners prepared to ruin the whole evening for their party, complaining that their steak 'was more well-done than medium-to-well' as I requested'. I think it's to do with their flaunting of some notional idea of 'good taste' they have about themselves, rather than the realisation they're teeth-grindingly irritating bores that drive the rest of us (well, me) bats.