Rev

I don't mind the Vorderman cunt. She seems homely and wholesome enough, but it's a pity her fanny's shaped a Raleigh Chopper saddle. The thigh-gap's there, but she looks like she's participated in a prolonged fisting session with Kenny Everett's Brother Lee Love. Here's one for the ladies. Admit it, girls...you're getting a bit moist, aren't you?

After nearly seven minutes' deep research, I've found a picture of a young Mother Teresa that suggests she could have been quite fuckable for about five minutes in the mid 1930s, long before she became the parchment-faced and cross-eyed old piss-soaked sow we all knew. At some point, I'll wager she was a right dirty cow under the duvet, before God stole her shit.

After much internal wrangling, I have had to have a re-think about this. I'm not sure I could maintain a storky on the old disco-stick if I was vigorously lowering and raising my yogurt-colonels for Mrs May to tea-bag. However, if it were Esther McVey, Caroline Flint, or even Jenny Marra at a pinch, I'd leave those lucky ladies panting and temporarily disabled from the waist down after a noisy and sweaty session with my beard-splitter. I have spoken.

I suppose mounting horses develops that healthy and apparently all-important thigh gap for the ladies; although I suspect a few have completely misunderstood this concept and gone on to contract some pretty fucking serious doses of non-species-specific brucellosis while trying to wrap their ankles around the base of the tail after allowing the horse to mount them. Cunts.

I fucking hate horses; never liked the cunts. They're one of the biggest arseholes of the animal world, just behind that fucking pot-ugly lesbian mandrill Nicola Commie Bastard Mutant Sturgeon cunt. Nobody who's not a screaming homosexualist really gives a flying shit about the bastards. The sooner the poofs' favourite four-legged wankers are marinaded in a piping hot gravy and wrapped in a tasty crispy pancake, the better. Fuck off. Peter Schaffer was a cunt.

Mrs R is sweet and fragrant, like a parochial Jenny Agutter and as such, I claim her as my own.

My take on this illegitimate ginger cunt-stick is that he's stealthily concealing depraved homosexualist tendencies. Let's be honest, all the tarts he's seen in public with are probably paid twinks in frocks. Nothing would surprise me less than to learn that this Fanta-pants prick's idea of heaven is a newly serviced Dyson and a bumper pack of factory-fresh anal beads, just like that jug-eared, yogurt-weaving old lesbian that he calls "dad". I want him dead.

It's not like the olive-harvesting bastards are going to contribute much to the economy anyway. At best, they'll be the goat-bothering cunt who chucks in the "salad" beside your mushroom pakora, or the surly trainee barber who burns the hair out of your ears with a lighter in one of their fucking state-funded pop-up shops. Billy Hayes is a cunt.

There's a cunt at my missus' work who is "transing" from a bloke into a bloke with tits, like this permed mutant. He's bought so much oestrogen off the internet to have the perfect D cups that he's completely fucked his kidneys and is now on a crusade to get as many young female students to approach their GP in order to blag supplemental drugs for his new fanny. I had the opportunity to smack the prick for smugly insulting Mrs Coitus, whereupon it burst into tears, excusing his outburst on the hormone tablets he was getting from fuck knows where. As a man of compassion and tolerance, I felt it was my civic duty to belt the cunt again. He hit the deck like a sack of shit. Nice tits though.

I'll have to agree to disagree with Mrs R here, for which I hopefully anticipate a fucking good spanking and ritual humiliation, with some erotic asphyxiation, nipple-clamps and candle-wax thrown in, if she plays fair. I reckon this North Korean cunt-haired butterball has at long last shit himself and taken off his special wanking trousers, now that the US has rightly or wrongly awoken from its liberal leftard coma.

Isn't it part of Turkish culture that the blokes have to fuck kids to further their ascent into adulthood, or something? As long as Aftab makes my chicken tikka kebabs with yogurt naans, I couldn't give a flying shit what the greasy cunt does in his spare time.

That clap-riddled old horse should be soundly battered with a length of scaffolding and turned into a coarse pâté.

Formula 1's for poofs. It's what gays do when the football season is over. The only good thing about it is the big-titted pre-race groupies and the tantalisingly attractive probability that one of these fucking benders might lose control of their car, hit a concrete bridge at 220mph and turn themselves into 80 kilos of flying mince. Niki Lauda's a cunt.

I don't recall what I've seen this fucking talent-resistant walloper in, but it's a safe bet to assume it was almost certainly shite. Blokes with long hair and "edgy" man-buns like this fucking beany hat-wearing cock-snorkeler should have their inadequate and predictably unmilked-by-a-woman bollocks tasered, then pushed slowly through a commercial bark-stripper. And set on fire. I want him dead.

What kind of cunt eats fucking cereal anyway? It's practically scientific fact that anyone who doesn't start the day off with sausages, bacon, fried eggs, black pudding, potato scone, fried bread, tomatoes, mushrooms, beans, HP sauce, a big fuck off round of toast and a mug of builder's tea/ vodka is a badger-sniffing cocksucker.

To celebrate the baby Jesus geezer having his cunt kicked in by Pilate's pansy stormtroopers, I had a fuck-load of curry, nearly a bottle of Sailor Jerry and a frenzied hand-job off the missus. We don't fanny about with all that heart-string pulling crucifixion pish. If Jesus had been alive today, he'd have been a dirty unwashed, self-styled Commie bastard revolutionary. And probably a lesbian. As long as I get my clackerbag emptied and a Lindt chocolate bunny, Jesus can shit off.

...goes without saying.

To be fair, I've had my share of outright fucking barkers over the years. Because they wore clothes, worked and had mortgages didn't make them any less than dogs. A couple of them should have been made to shit in a tray. Cunts.

It's not even the screaming fucking homosexualists who insist on wearing this Olivia Newton-John "Let's Get Physical" chuttery, it's all blokes who go to the gym. From the pasty-faced fat cunts who can't get a woman, so fancy their chances pulling a poof in too short polyester mesh Adidas shorts, to the muscle-bound, narcissistic brown-hatters, they all fall like the same sack of shit after a well aimed throat-punch and all scream for their mammy after you've turned their fucking face into hamburger with a snooker ball-filled sock. Lifting weights and all the other attendant gayness that goes on in gyms is wholly synonymous with sucking off like-minded Backgammon-playing arse-butlers. I want them dead.

She can Rohypnol me for all I fucking care..just as long as she's wearing an Aufseherin Bundesmädchen outfit, thigh-high stilettos and peep-hole bra while she's thrashing me with her riding crop..just like Mrs R does.

Remember that neither the Salmond cunt, nor the Sturgeon commie lesbian bastard speak for Scotland. The unionist vote up here is split three ways and the fucking SNP wankers came to power on little over 22%. Both Shetland and Orkney had petitions to become independent of Holyrood and remain in the UK, had we voted to secede in 2014. The nationalist cunts have peaked and it's doubtful they'll ever get another plebiscite; all of Sturgeon's recent shite was engineered to choose a date which she knew would be turned down, yet appease her fucking glue-sniffing street army. I wish she, Salmond and the rest of their arsehole party would fucking drop dead. They're a shower of IRA, Hamas and Muslim Brotherhood apologist (and donating) cunts and are a fucking embarrassment to Scotland.

I'd fuck her!

I suspect this fucking Eastenders blubbernought doesn't get her sweaty cabbage field waxed to make her appear feminine and less unattractive, she visits a topiarist.

It's Fat Man Scoop with an outstanding pair of lactoid sweater cows. However, she's so aesthetically handicapped, she facially resembles a yeti's clap-riddled cock.

Yeah. It's apparently none of any other cunt's business what he spends my fucking tax money on. He needs beaten to near death with a bitumen-filled hose and his screaming remains thrown into a fucking council incinerator.