Last Cunt Standing

I’ll take that as a compliment I think, you lobotomised woodlouse. I’d much rather you exchange such high-class badinage with your other friends in the freak show. I’m afraid I have no time for irritating twerps who are on a one-way track to the Cooler before long, given your unwarranted attack on OCR. Drink bleach. Slowly.

There’s a vaccine for that now Bill.

It’s six thirty in the fucking morning you utter dullard. I’ve had more challenging material from under my toenails than I’ve seen from you, so do kindly fuck off.

I thought you were a Gooner, you fucking disgrace? Wrighty was an absolute fucking legend for your lot, up there with Henry, Bergkamp, Adams and the lot. Quite what he’s done to offend you I can only imagine.

I’m hurt, Francis. I was aiming for Papal infallibility in our interactions.

@Wolfie and I have had our moments, but whatever else he is, he’s a competent and rational debater, even though I think he’s wrong most of the time. It’s not a good look for some Jonny-come-lately shitposter to start flinging this sort of crap around without at least earning your spurs in the minor leagues of making us laugh. Expect a squashing. Imminently.

I’ve just woken up to see the news about MOTD. I’ve obviously been away too long, I didn’t realise you’d reached the “dissenters will be put to death” stage in your transition to banana republic. Presumably Nadine Dorries is right now being briefed on the intricacies of the Aston Villa back four before making her entrance on Saturday night like a pissed-up Cilla Black tribute. The BBC have set themselves a very dangerous precedent here. Marvellous. Keep it coming, I’ll get the popcorn 🍿 in.

I always felt Lana Wood would very probably get Plenty O’Toole. Pity Diamonds Are Forever is such a weak example of the genre.

Disagree, but appreciate the effort in replying. I note you’ve got no position here on Mssrs Sharp and Gibb, both men in senior positions at the Beeb who might as well wear blue rosettes to work. They escape your ire. Why? “Impartiality lies at the heart of public service“. Does it? Well if that’s true, you’ve got a longer list than Gary for your little Pogrom. Maybe Gary will get fired, and maybe he won’t. Maybe darling Suella will suggest book burning next, or perhaps a boycott of immigrant shops. But of course, it’s outrageous to make any negative reference to history to any claret-faced old fella who usually gets misty-eyed to Vera Lynn. If you can’t see what is happening here, and what you are lending your name to, then perhaps a bit more reading is required. “It was a bright cold day in April and the clocks were striking thirteen…..”

Wanker.

I hate to put our recent uneasy truce in jeopardy, but it will come as no surprise to you that I take a fiercely opposing view. And yes, yes, it’s nothing to do with me as of course anyone who leaves the sacred island for more than a week loses all right of comment forever and should go “fuck a Kangaroo”. The rapacious wit of a spittle-flecked Wetherspooner is again anticipated. Gary Lineker is a football journalist last time I checked. He hasn’t voiced his own political views on any BBC output. He has a long history of championing minority causes, which is perhaps why he irritates so many on the right. He has taken in asylum seekers himself in the past. He isn’t a political journalist, and thus has no duty to impartiality (though any news organisation employing the likes of Laura Kuenssberg, Nick Robinson, and Fiona Bruce and claiming to be non-Partisan can’t really take itself seriously). Voicing a fairly mainstream opinion (in so far as that opinion has been echoed repeatedly in the House of Commons) on Twitter isn’t particularly controversial, and this Daily Mail inspired witch hunt for the Crisp munching Lynam impersonator is in my view, utter shite. I’d much rather attack him for his Qatar hypocrisy or his apparent cuckolding by his former wife Danielle. Rylan might have a political view. As might Zoe Ball, or Claudia Winkleman. Equally, Huw Edwards equally might have a view on the Wales front row, or why Mercedes make better cars than BMW. They are all surely free to say what they like to who they like away from work. I mean, does your employer know you spend a good proportion of you time mouthing off on The Corner, or that you annually espouse homicidal feelings about the sodding Notting Hill Carnival? Or, let me guess, that’s different because you’re anonymous/not paid with public money/are expressing your views ironically. If you want to whine about BBC impartiality, and that’s been a middle class parlour game since the days of Lord Reith, have a look at the Chair, Richard Sharp, an ex-Goldman Sachs pig who was an “advisor” to renowned liar Boris Johnson and has given as a matter of public record, hundreds of thousands of pounds to the Tory party and perhaps arranged a line of credit for a sitting Prime Minister. Or Robbie Gibb, ex Downing Street Comms Man, arch Brexiteer, founder of GB News and now BBC Board Member with a penchant for visiting the newsroom to arm twist, monitor and “advise”. Presumably these people are in your rhetorical crosshairs next? Fish rot from the head, after all. If you want a new broom at the BBC and would like Gary to clear his desk, that’s one thing. But if your little revolution stops there I think we know it’s not about principles, is it? You just don’t like what he has to say because it makes you uncomfortable. Which isn’t bloody good enough. Fact is the tone of the immigration debate pursued by the UK Government is increasingly ugly and nasty. I think comparisons with 1930’s Germany are understandable, if hyperbolic. And yes, Australia’s immigration policy is pretty fucking dark too, before you start. I mean, they let me in for starters. In your much-anticipated reply I feel sure you’ll allude to my former job, the word count, or my present location. I’d like a new variation on all three please. Perhaps in a Haiku. Don’t disappoint me again, Wolfie. We were getting on so well.

Fuck all that, Eric. I watched Chris Rock’s hour long special last night. You’d enjoy it. Especially “racist yoga pants” and “sneak up on you black”. Bernard Manning be spinning in his grave like an F1 camshaft.

It’s 3500 km to Alice Springs from here, Bill. A full day and a half driving. A similar distance as driving from The Emirates Stadium to Donetsk in Ukraine. Rather like Alice Springs, Donetsk finds itself in the grip of external forces which has taken an already sad, unloved place to the edge of oblivion. I just thought you’d appreciate the geography, if you can fit that in between advanced immunology, geopolitics and presidential genealogy. G’day, indeed. As you were.

So speaks a man who never used Paco Rabanne. Responsible for more wet gussets than Hotpoint, that stuff.

Personally I am coming round to the idea that the reason you can’t currently buy tomatoes in the UK, is to stop seditious cunts stockpiling them to lob in the direction of jug ears and his bitch as they make their way through London in their gold encrusted carriage. I might suggest it to @King Billy, he likes that sort of thing. I note the anointing oil comes from olive trees on the Mount of Olives, which to my mind means thanks to the circle of life, Charlie is on some level being daubed with atoms which once made up the dick of Robert Maxwell and the arsehole of Ariel Sharon. Nice.

I can forgive you many things, Decimus, but Middlesbrough? You’re taking the absolute piss there.

“Frank, Frank, Frank’s got HIV”. I know it’s not my business, but congratulations on posting the creepiest shit I’ve seen in a while. Is that your normal voice? I need a beach walk to cleanse my eyeballs. PS. That sideboard looks distinctly MFI to me. Get some overtime in, man.

I’m a latecomer to this thread, and haven’t read the OP, but I must put in a good word for Hayley Turner. Won me a tidy few quid back in the day at Southwell. She always had time for anyone, owner, punter, or staff. Jamie Spencer is a dick. Just ask Emma.

Famously described as “fat dancer from Take That”, Williams has more ego than is reasonable for someone who can’t out-perform his club singer father. It’s something in the Stoke water if you ask me. More egotistical cunts per square foot than anywhere else in England; Phil Taylor, Anthea Turner, Neil Morrissey, John Caudwell. If you’ve never been, “shit hole” seems an understatement. Robbie was booked for the AFL Grand Final last year, turned up in his pink suit, knocked out a couple of low effort ditties in the club style a La Vic Reeves, pocketed his million bucks, and fucked off. Nobody looked up from their VB and meat pie. That this cunt lives, and George Michael doesn’t, is proof that God is no DJ.

Doc, note I dissent; a fast never prevents a fatness. I diet on cod.

It’s an old clip, but I saw this the other day, and thought how much you’d love to see it again.

I’m still quite suspicious of this latest attempt at rapprochement, but at the risk of blundering into an elephant trap, I can tell you that the few rural types I know down here are completely unafraid of the synth meat thing. They know, with some certainty, most Aussies wouldn’t give up their steak and their bacon until the waters of a melted Antarctic were lapping at their roof trusses. The export markets are rock solid too. There’s a pub now right on the dockside at Fremantle, and on the right day you’ll see the enormous cow carriers being loaded for the Middle East, which usually gives me at least ten seconds pause over my burger. In short, no one I know down here, short of some soi-boi types in Melbourne (sorry, @southerncunt) gives a fuck about fake meat or abolishing the livestock trade. As for health benefits, essentially you’re trading iron for cholesterol. Vegetarianism might well have some health benefits if done properly, but there’s a lot to be said for the pursuit of pleasure in my view. A good Beef Wellington from time to time is a fair trade for a fortnight less in a care home. Veganism on the other hand, is a weird cult we should all distrust. Time to get the Bacon on, just as soon as Joe Root gets out.

I think we can rule out St Mirren. No way you’d be able to tolerate the abominable naming rights of the SMiSA stadium, it would surely set your tic off. I’d have a pound each way on your team being Glenelg, proud winners of the Clan Donald Cup in 2019. Mostly because Glenelg is a palindrome.

Circumcision is pretty much mandatory though Eric, and it smarts a bit, apparently.

You fuckers need to up your game. 48 hours it’s been now since the news that the forces of political correctness, so beloved of all Corner stalwarts, have decreed the dear old Norwegian anti-semite and genial purveyor of Children’s literature is to be nailed to a literary cross. His entire collection is to be revised and updated for the modern era. Augustus Gloop can no longer be fat, Charlie Bucket no longer poor or sharing a bed with his four grandparents, The Twits no longer ugly or stupid, and The Witches are bald but the reader is warned that this doesn’t mean they are freaks. Miss Trunchbull is no longer a fat aggressive lesbian. The list goes on and on. The offence police need collectively throwing off The Shard for this shit. There is nothing offensive in these books, and rather than permit the butchery, the Dahl estate should have just said “fuck you” and let them go out of print for a while. Presumably there’s going to be a black (is that allowed?) market in Dahl original strength before much longer. What is it with these wet lettuces and Children’s fiction? Cunts, to a cis man and cis woman.