Jiggerycock

Fucking hell, what an heroic jawline! Makes David Coulthard's look like Vanessa Feltz's

Presumably, the blood gushing from your shreddies, serving merely to confirm your colleagues' dark thoughts

"Can we agree that the Christian God is omnipresent and all forgiving" "Hell yeah! You wanna make something of that, boy?" " Whoa, whoa there lady. And can we agree he is a compassionate God and, as the Bible teaches us, all loving?" "Yeah?" " Might it not be then that this all wise, all-knowing and omnipresent Christ has sent us homosexuals to test your Christian tolerance and love?" "Fuck you, you commie pinko fag!"

More of a mince than a dance, I'd say

Because Pythagoras was a cunt

This is my mum to a tee. Subjunctive clause following subjunctive clause in a paternoster of a story that in the end becomes just a background noise to my teeth-clenching frustration. I don't wish her dead - I realise that may mean I miss out on my fifth Cunts Corner sociopaths Mcdonalds gold star - but it may help explain some of my contributions to this little bit of the Internet

Yes! But would this fall under into the description of an art or a science. I mean, on the one hand, you could use Latin tags or the pithy prose of a Chaucer ('Enshrine these Qyntes in hogges tord!') or a Shakespeare ('Prithee then, what men are these, whose balls hang twixt parentheses?') as a descriptive base for the subject's cuntyness (or is it cuntishness? See, these things are important and need to be established by the Examining Committee as a matter of urgency) But on the other hand we may try and assign numerical or spectral values (Infra red to ultra violet) in an attempt to separate the middle of the road cuntyness / cuntishness of a duff weather forecast (for example) that leaves you cold and pissed off, when you were expecting it to be cracking-the-flagstones hot, from the more complex and concentrated clitorisness of a Kanye West. It's a tricky one isn't it? Don't come to me for easy answers - I'll just go off on another 'stream of consciousness' pompous verbosity.

I mean, two of the other Bee Gees have had the good grace to roll a seven already, so why not this cunt?

So this West herbert ponces around Glastonbury like the cock of the walk, doing the square root of bugger all, then pronounces himself Beelzebub's gift to rock 'n roll? Further, in a sudden moment of clarity, he decides this is the final imprimatur required on his CV to make him a potential leader of the most powerful nation on earth. Ones initial reaction to this news? 'Sausage-jockey' but you then realise this is wholly inadequate; indeed in the whole lexicon of abuse that comprises Cunts Corner - a body of work stretching back across eons and stardates, featuring contributions from the greatest misanthropists ever - such is the paucity of bile and invective to describe the magnitude of cuntiness, that he may well get away with it!

I've got a cheesy Wotsit.......according to my wife

Then you're a right fucking amateur! There's a bloody racehorse in there with me you blind twat!

An umbrella? The only use these chiselling twatters have is as a lightening conductor.

'Mother and Children, Heading for Syria' Saw that and I thought, 'There's a taxi driver prepared to go south of the river at this time of night - fair fucks to him!'

Cut from the same bolt of cloth as that other 'ham it up for the telly' tosser Matt Allwright, with his clip-on moral rectitude and supposed interest in 'punters' (also known as 'customers' or 'viewers') he'd run (or motorcycle with his homo-erotic, leather joyboy friend) a million miles to avoid in real life.

Not cunts! I mean, what would Ray Winstone ever do for an acting role again? Oh actually, come to think of it - cunts!!

They reached the nadir of this one with Poncy Water (WATER for Jesus somersaulting Christ's sake!!). Yep! Adams Ale. H20. Who knew you could fuck with that? Well, the bastard lovechild of the marketing weasels and the brick-thick public, eager for the next thing to be 'better than everyone else' about, did, the slimy toads. Gitty Vodka sounds like the Ceiling of the Sistine Chappel compared with fucking around with bloody, bleeding, effing Water!

'cunt children' Literally speaking, are there any other kind?

No Sleep 'til Le Manoir aux Quatres Saisons! Marco Pierre White Live at The Budokhan! Flea and Anthony Kiedis discuss the best way to prevent a coulis from setting. The Ghost of John Bonham knocks up a nouvelle cuisine masterpiece with pithiviers of ceps n' shit. .....nope, 'fraid not. None of this works for me I'm afraid

Piece of piss this..... 1. Put Matthew Pinsent (lardy-arsed 2015 version) in a single scull.... 2.....Release him upstream of finishing line... 3. ...Wait.

Trinidad! Oh fucking hell........

Yeah - or fucking Pulled Pork, which seems to be getting everywhere all of a sudden

A further example of the infantilisation of booze I'm afraid. Time was it was beer - and bitter at that, none of this lager shite - or whiskey and sweet sherry for the ladies. Possibly a snowball at Christmas (that's the boozy drink not the exotic sexual practise you sick fucks,keep your mind on the thread!) and some nastspewmanti at weddings. Now you've got this neo-jism like Wkd - alcopops, that's what they're called - to feed the nations endless need for sugar and grown men thinking it's acceptable to drink Vodka and Red Bull (for when you want to be a violent, misogynistic prick and stay up all night inflicting your millimetre thick personality on whatever poor sap you can corral into a corner and berate all night with your ill-informed worthless opinions). Toffee-flavoured Vodka, of course....

Well the Edinburgh Festival demands a nom all of it's own, the amount of introverted, self-stroking wristers it encourages. Admittedly there are the few shining stars amongst the preening offal but you have to look bloody hard. I don't usually do this sort of thing but Will Gompertz can suck my big cock and call it a searing indictment of contemporary attitudes to the zeitgeist....or something

Schoolboy error that Scotty. Get to it and let us know how you get on - if you can elbow aside the retinue of hookers and mountain of cocaine that'll inevitably be coming your way if successful.

Get your ears around this number! Shatner and Henry Rollins (with Adrian Belew on guitar, with Ben Folds twiddling the knobs) just getting into the studio and letting rip! Deranged brilliance.