Rev

Obviously, I hadn't a bastarding clue who this cunt is, as I'm not a follower of fucking football...it's been proven time and time again to be a game for screaming homosexualists and Special Olympic chutters. Why don't they just replace her with Judy Finnegan as their fuck-mascot? It's not fucking rocket science.

Who gives a flying shit what Judy Fucking Finnegan has to say? Are we to set precedents because of what that nasty old sow considers to be valid social commentary? Fuck her. Fuck Tom Daley. And fuck Alex Salmond. Cunts.

Why don't you learn to play guitar, or find a woman to have sex with, without them being related to you, or needing paid, Bronski? Don't be a cunt-blister all your life.

Roger Daltrey's still a cunt.

Could I put myself through for the National Bastard Championships, grumpers? I have previous.

Fuck me, this is no place for sensitive cunts. If it's not Bronski shitting in his step-mum's purse, then frenziedly masturbating over his mate in his Captain Scarlet uniform, there is a plethora of other targets here. Gerry Anderson was a cunt.

I'd pay a decent chunk out of my wages to see Stephen Hawking getting off his fucking arse and earning his crust instead of all that "look at me, I'm broken" shite. Piss-taking bastard. I'd set the work-shy cunt on fire when his Duracells run out.

Brian May's a cunt.

Quantum mechanics is for cunts.

Yeah, welcome back, Rothers. I assume you're preparing a fully operational gif for CF7.

I was in the same restaurant as that Kaye Adams cunt (the Scottish bint with the nose) at the weekend. She's a fuck sight uglier in the flesh. And a cunt.

Or you could simply have bought a Triumph, worn a pair of Red Wings and held your head high like a proper bloke. Being a geezer isn't difficult for real men, unless you're a screaming gayer with a penchant for tassels all over your bike.

He was good in Diff'rent Strokes.

I was blocked up recently, to the point where after the turtle's head had broken the water's surface, the stern still hadn't exited my arse. I had to break the fucker with a coat-hanger. It was like giving birth to a mature sapling.

...or, for a less generous economy with words, just "cunt".

His blog looks okay to me. He seems to have ripped off a fuck-load of my patter and even a couple of my nominations though, the cunt. I'm favouring going down the route of "he touched me...there" if he keeps plagiarising my shit. Bastard.

He's a complete fanny.

Fucking right. When I take over from Mr Rasmussen, I'm going to raze the Middle-East to the fucking ground and play billiards with the heads of all those sister-marrying, web-footed ISIS wankers. There's nothing like a good ruck, without NATO and highly unstable political leaders with trigger-happy sensibilities, life would be as dull as fuck and filled with evenings of pushing Bronski's plushies through a Moulinex blender. I propose to have Esther McVey as head of the Armed Forces, dressed in latex and nipple clamps with her labia-piercings on show to display her military seniority.

There certainly seems to be a lot more bonhomie on the Corner since the change to over here. Thankfully, as we're all hate-filled anti-social bastards, this'll wash out. You cunts.

This fucking androgyne is an irritating yank cunt. Pirouetting around the stage in your gay capes like Stevie Nicks, except with a slightly larger cock makes you look a proper ring-sausage, Tyler, you latex-lipped cunt. Joe Perry's a good guitarist, though.

What?

Su Pollard's a cunt.

Hang on a fucking second. You took £50 off me. Or was that including the pie, chips and cider?