Jiggerycock

​.The dots on her face? I bet it reveals a Pentangle and she's in league with Satan and his ghoulish cohorts!!!

The one's on that white Fiat I was tooling around Paris with in 1997 worked a treat though.

​Nah couldn't be otters. Had one once and it was fucking hopeless - formed a kind of 'tent' contraption with it's little paw and definitely needed 'go faster stripes' on it's wanking fist.....'languid' didn't even begin to describe what it served up. And it didn't rubber up too when we did the Nasty. You're maybe thinking of Pine Martens? They're the motherfucking bomb.

​Go on a diet presumably

Is that a storyboard for one of the early Smiths singles?

International 'Couldn't Give a Shit' Day round my gaff.

Fucking nest of usurping vipers! If they can shoehorn in an extra charge then they'll make Ryan Air look like the very paradigm of largesse and benevolence "So that's £20 to see 'A bunch of funny haircuts, lauded by NME for fear of being excommunicated from Planet-fucking-Now'. Plus a £1.50 admin charge, plus first class posteage plus use of a credit card, plus the day has a 'Y' in it's name, plus the 'up against that wall right now else I'll kick your fucking head in' charge plus VAT - that come's to a golden Succubus Left Nut and the virginity of your first born, please"

Phone boxes were always the pissoir of choice way back when. Judged by the number of prostitutes advertising cards there were knocking around in these places, you'd have to assume human urine was some kind of aphrodisiac - a theory underlined by the volume, depravity and creativity of homosexual graffiti found, where? Yup scrawled all over the walls in blokes toilets!

You will do one day

She fed her toddler methadone to make it sleepy, so she could get ripped to the tits on crack. Definitely not a student from the Mary Poppins school of nannying. Anyway since you're here and have nothing better to do, I'm assuming you're from Camberwell? If so, can you confirm whether that dopey little ISIS-wannabe, half ounce that got done for terrorism and who lived in Camberwell, lived in Evelina Mansions, on New Church Road? I saw an interview with some of his overseen cohorts and recognised the area and wondered if you could confirm. I used to live there back in the Jurassic period.

One scarcely knows where to begin. Society has deemed it infringes some human rights or other to allow compulsory sterilisation of someone so manifestly unfit to have a child. Ownership of a 'Parent License' proving one is a fit and proper person to engage in the most serious role a human can undertake (bringing up a child) is also deemed somewhat infra-dig - the 'human rights' in question specifically extending to the garden salads that create the child and not the child itself, apparently. Faced with this, what can we do? Of course, personal responsibility is now a laughably outdated notion, so that's not going to work in the hedonistic stampede. Legalised homicide ? Well we're back in the realms of tricksy 'human rights' again aren't we. Social Workers?? The Police? Overworked, undermanned, underpaid with morale lower than a snakes hips so all in all it's a bit of a toughie isn't it? Best strap in and get a helmet as the rise in numbers of the underclass means that it's entirely possible a cohort of these shit-for-brains and their bloodline will be moving to a house near you soon....and when I say house I mean 'four-bedroomed des res with en-suite everythings, now operating as a suburban crack den'.

​What kind of bullet and what kind of gun. You have to be precise in these kind of guerrilla insurgency issues. The future of mankind is at stake. Given that, Mister 'Day Of The Jackal' here would eschew the use of firearms in favour of a Calloway titanium-shafted nine-iron. The only issue would be to get them to stand close enough together and me have enough elevation to deliver the knockout blow, them do a threeway 'funky-chicken' and exactly when I would get the knighthood for services to Comedy. You think I'm kidding? I could have got Hitler out of that bunker with a pitching wedge and a decent enough swing!

​Mind you, the pikeys round here are living high on the hog, so I'm guessing the going rate for a ton of scrap metal has shot through through the roof, so maybe these canny fuckers regard it as some kind of supplement to their pension funds, to be cashed in in their doteage?

It's the lies I can't stand. He throws a pastel-coloured, polka-dot parachute over a mound of cottage cheese with an heroic jawline - and then has the crass bloody nerve to tell her she looks wonderful!

Vacuous, 'famous for being famous', depth of a Rizla paper, simpering nit-wit, whose sexuality has zero bearing on my utter contempt for him and the fact he's stealing a living from a world that clearly thinks he's the last word in 'Planet fucking Now'. Why do ISIS insist on taking out people with worth and integrity, whilst this imbecile continues to draw breath?

​This I like! I think you are probably me in a parallel universe somewhere. Saddest day of my adolescent life when Malcolm Owen died and the saddest of my adult life when Lee Brilleaux carked it.

I don't doubt for one second there are some very sad and troubled youngsters out there. We live in an age where politicians and media are more conniving than ever, parents are trying to keep roof over their heads and food on the table to spend too much time with you. You've got hardcore porn as your information resource about sexual relationships two clicks away on your phone. You've got rap artists boasting about the women they've fucked or the niggers they've popped 'like it aint no thing' as your role models. You've got a disease that can take you out if you have unprotected sex and class A drugs WAY more accessible than our generation had it and so it's tough to get information on things that you need from a shitty, fucked up culture and society like we have at present. I would not like to be trying to make my way as a teenager now. However. I'd like to think I had a bit more about me than to roll over and invent some fucking syndrome or issue for myself and have the World go and indulge me on my little self-obsessed trip. For me, 'get a fucking grip and don't let go' is a bit more than just good wanking advice.

Thinny said to Brony "My your such a slob Your stomach is so huge that it must obscure your nob. Doesn't it get in the way when you are on the job?" Said Brony 'I'm a Girly!" And smashed him in the gob.

Beyond parody. Short of walking round downtown Tikrit with a 'Mohammed Fucks Pigs' t-Shirt, this guy cannot get anymore asinine and disposable.

If it's not middle-class women forced into the retail industry by the recession, giving you attitude because they've been forced to chivvy for a living, it's these fucking dildoes. Cunts have half-a-ton of ironwork hanging out their faces, half-a-yard of underpant sticking out above their jeans, which are slung round their knees and a bore the size of the Channel Tunnel in their ears. Probably think they're some counter-culture icon, sticking it to the man by keeping it real working on the service desk at KFC Probably sees himself as (insert provincial shithole here) understudy to the lead singer of Slipknot. You just wish they'd get hit by a load of shrapnel - there's some 'nu-metal' for you!

Fucking shite at 'rock, paper, scissors' though

​Hey you syntax-Nazi! Perhaps they're just trying to be 'avant'. Imagine them writing a whole screenplay for a film using this kind of dialogue! Be-bop or what?

​Look on the bright side Scale-wise she'd make your 'old chap' look gigantic

I wouldn't mind but they make such a bloody song and dance about it all. You're in the gym cranking out the reps good and proper, building that vascular wall so those ball-breaking bastards can't get at you, the Iron-Forged uberman who stares into the frozen icy abyss.....er...ummm...anyway, yes. In comes one of these lycra clad goons with their sawed off little fart of a meal-ticket and the cacophony starts. 'COME ON.....ONE MORE REP.....ONE MORE....THAT'S GREAT....YOU CAN DO IT (maybe even without a fucking hearing aid). I suppose it helps 'cos at this point I've reached the kind of enervation levels I imagine you get in a rape, and I just want to break stuff. My personal best on the bench press passes as easily as muesli stools as I imagine ripping the head off this empty little simp and drinking a protein shake from his stupid skull.