Rev

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.

Judge is a big fan of loose women, the TV bollocks show, i am just a fan of loose women.

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.

Scotty, you are far too kind and well mannered.  I doubt the cretin will understand anything you said past "look at me!"  With your permission, I'd like to abbreviate your post for the fuckwit.
 
"Delete your profile and fuck off!"

...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.

I never charge less than £40.

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

Johann Lamont - Little Red with the swollen clit-hood.

Harry Botter and the Political Prisoner of the Oppressive West in Azerbaijan.

Walt Disney's Gambhi - a young deer brings nationalism to the table in pre-War Punjab.

Watership Downs - A socialist collective of rabbits with Down Syndrome learn about bio-diversity.

Well it is rocket science rev. Because it be rockets they fire. Silly!

Ah. Fuck.

Live, from Norwich...it's Cunt of the Century. This fucking blow-dried, cravat-sporting, comfortable beige slacks-wearing poof-house cunt needs a personal introduction with my fucking arc-welder, then calmly, but firmly throttled. He always reminded me of a screaming gay-lord teacher we've all been taught by at secondary school and wanted to get the fuck away from. Too unwell (for unwell, see gay) to take up a position in the Merchant Navy during the war, the fucking lipstick-artist bastard minced about like a fucking pansy for repertory companies until he was touched up by some fucking Canadian theatre impresario/poof and became the bouffanted old wanker we love to hate. Drop dead, Parsons, you old queer. Cunt.

It was a gift from Mother Theresa

I hope you slipped the hand under her kilt as a thank you.

You got a Bonnie, Westie? I used to have a Trophy 650..same as a Bonnie, only with one carb. A real bloke's bike, not like these fucking homo rice rockets, or tasseled Harleys ridden by pony-tailed queers.