Last Cunt Standing

And here’s me thinking that burning smell was probably a bushfire. True to form, rather than just simply acknowledge your Herald of Free Enterprise error, you come out of your corner swinging wildly like some fifteenth-round punch-drunk has-been forced out of retirement in his fifties. Apparently it’s somehow my fault you make these continual errors, and pointing them out makes me Susie Dent, obsessed with your every utterance, which is quite difficult when I haven’t logged in for a month. As someone who’s been very free with his metaphorical red pen on The Corner down the years, adding hypocrite to the growing list of charming epithets I throw at you when the mood takes me seems entirely justified. Sadly I don’t have time to indulge your inevitably tedious reply as I’ll be back on the road tonight and while I travel through remote Australia, checking in to The Corner is just below wondering how Cowdenbeath are getting on in the football in my list of priorities. Sorry if, as you complained elsewhere, this feels like boxing in even slower slow motion but five minutes a month already seems like ample time to give gobshites like you. I’ll be back to civilisation for Christmas, so perhaps a little light badinage before the turkey might be charitable? Gives you time to practice. It’s an unbearable 28 here in Perth today, by the way. In the meantime, and as is by now traditional, I’ll invite you to get fucked and hope your (singular) sphincteral opening prolapses spectacularly in the not too distant future. Catch ya, cunt.

Saga? Don’t they do holidays? I’m afraid you can’t rely on me or my occasional Lupine adversary to raise the tone. I only popped home to Perth for some household trivia, it’s back to Queensland tonight to continue The Big Lap, or my 6 month Rim Job as I’ve taken to calling it to any Churchgoing acquaintances. See you all at Christmas. Sprouts on a low light etcetera….

I see your commitment to accuracy has not improved in the short time I’ve been absent. The Herald of Free Enterprise left her bow doors open. Wanker.

Yep. And these days, it’s very difficult not to join in.

Returning to mental health for a moment, I stumbled across this video, a collaboration from Samaritans and Norwich City. The point they are making is fairly straightforward, but I can’t help but wonder if the subtext is you have to have a mental health issue to support Norwich City. Perhaps @Decimus can enlighten us, between packing his Colmans memorabilia into tea chests? Incidentally, and this has nothing to do with my (very robust) mental health, Me and the wife are hitting the road shortly to do The Big Lap, a 15,000km circle of Australia, popular with the army of grey nomads I guess we now join. Bucket list tick. You’ll hear even less from me than usual, which I’m sure is a disappointment. I did contemplate libelling half the contributors with the n word and finding out what Roops keeps in her dungeon, but on reflection, I’d rather not know. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone. See you in February.

Amen, brother.

No, no, of course. You’d prefer to wait a few years until they gather together at a Catholic Youth Club then blow them sky high, wouldn’t you? I’m afraid the moral high ground is a very distant prospect for you Bill.

Just for clarity Bill I haven’t seen a patient professionally since Feb 2019, so professionally speaking my Covid nose is clean. Having said that, had I still been working, I’d have had one in each eyeball on the first day of issue, and happily jabbed all and sundry after that. Particularly for those fantastic sums of cash that you tell us were involved. As for abortion or voluntary assisted dying, I’m all in favour of that too. VAD is legal here in WA, and funnily enough society ticks along nicely. If the UK Parliament was populated by grown ups rather than toffs, crooks and liars, then giving people a legal route out of the torture of terminal neurological disease would have been sorted out yonks ago. In some cases, mandatory assisted dying might be appropriate. MAD enough for you? Please adjust your tinfoil.

Will he bollocks.

Congratulations on leaving the sinking ship. Canada is a good choice.

Emojis now is it? Fuck me, whatever else I thought of you, I thought you were a man of letters. Silly me. I’m off to Bali to drink the place dry. Get fucked.

As evidenced here, I’m not sure you can keep a coherent thought in your head for more than an hour these days you fucking windbag. But, that’s fine, there’s plenty of people here who will indulge you, sadly, whatever they might think privately. Though we seem to have ground to something of a truce, there’s still the occasional bullet over the wire, like the DMZ in Korea. I think you’re a Cunt, and no doubt you feel the same. I’m off on holiday at the weekend. Keep the place warm in my absence, dickhead.

Never let it be said you don’t stick to your guns, KB. Perhaps literally. Ciao.

Well now there’s an image.

Sorry Bill, won’t happen again. Looking forward to Trumpy’s mug shot later? I know I am.

Corner tradition dictates that this coming weekend is the time for burying hatchets, holding hands and joining in a collective chorus of Kumbaya as we celebrate the Caribbean culture of London and the diversity miracle which continues to evolve across the UK. I’m only surprised that 48 hours before the August Bank Holiday begins, no one has yet ventured an opinion on what they are most looking forward to experiencing on the last public holiday before Summer turns to Autumn and it’s soon dark before Final Score. I can only assume everyone is distracted by the sudden death of Eddie, but it strikes me he’d like nothing more than a moment of collective cultural reflection. I’m off for a little blast of Bob Marley in the hot tub. Chin chin, brothers and sisters. Lively up yourselves.

He said the magic word! It must be quite disconcerting for him, taken out for using the N word. And by his missus, too. Cold.

24 hours after Pakistan struggled to cross a mountain pass, India lands on the dark side of the moon. Feels like the world just changed a little bit.

No idea Eric, but I imagine it’s built in the shape of a hammer and sickle.

You booked in for your womb transplant yet Bill or what? I see the technique has come to the UK and I reckon knocking out a couple of kids as a sideline to the Brothel and the Christmas Trees should keep the M3 insured for another year or two. Bon chance.

This whiny ginger Cunt is, I’m reliably informed, currently number one in the US despite never having set foot in a recording studio in his life. The catchy little ditty Rich Men North of Richmond bemoans the modern world, in a way not unfamiliar to many Corner posters, citing rich elites, politicians, fat people and the welfare system as the reasons the world has gone to shit. The usual fruitier ends of the political spectrum, such as walking homunculus Marjorie Taylor Greene, have lauded the track as the anthem for forgotten America. I’m sure the Orange monster will leap aboard the bandwagon as soon as he posts bail. Adding to the general Cuntery, Corner favourite St Billy of Bragg has knocked out a mock-Country response inviting the Yokel to put his guitar down and join a Union. As much as I welcome the return of the protest song to the pop charts, having Right and Left slug it out over the airwaves is likely to do nothing but give Bill Gates and Warren Buffet a hard on as they watch the proles fighting each other rather than coming for them, which is surely long overdue. For those interested, here are the said ditties. Pick a side. Enjoy. Try not to burst your aneurysms.

I think on balance I preferred Barry Norman. And I don’t think you’re unemployable. My car needs a wash, for a start.

If it’d gone on much longer Eric, the Ref would’ve put in for maternity leave.

Not the most diverse of populations up there, Raas. In fact after five minutes thought the only famous Black Scotsman I can think of is McLaren from Porridge.

If you’re Scottish, it’s still more likely to be Heroin or Cholesterol that kills you, to be fair.