ChildeHarold

You're so easy to troll.

And it's precisely these little cunts - yeah you sub 30 cocksuckers - who are going to cause another nationwide lockdown and fuck everything up.

Oven ready cunting. Johnson meet your successor!

Go and fuck yourself. Upsetting cunts isn't against the rules on this site who act destructively against reasonable noms. If you have no interest in the nom or dislike the nominator then the answer is to leave it alone. Not go on it and start baiting. So fuck off and get a Brazilian you shithead. Totally negative and destructive.

Everybody has same view. Cummings behaviour and Johnson's cowardly refusal to sack him and the fact our faces were rubbed in it means he is OUT asap and Brexit is now a LOST CAUSE.

So... Larry Grayson lives!

Yeah. And the moon is made of cheese (you should know) cocksucker.

Go and well and truly fuck yourself arsehole. Nobody gives a fuck about you either. Wannabe liked shithead? Liked by little Roadkill shithead?

What's this got to do with the fucking nom you half baked moron.

And you are a fucking well known CC arsehole with Roops up to your every shit trick. Don't start heading that way again towards a ban.

Fuck off cunt.

Do yourself a favour and fuck off forever you smarmie shit ball.

Fucking pervert. Go and hang out at the local public lav.

As I said go and fuck off.

You are a heart attack cunt anyway. Go and munch on another bacon roll.

I am referring to the television spectacle of the Tour de France which has been reduced, gradually since the Lance Armstrong era, to a fucking tedious repetitive bland characterless merry go round. In three words It Is Shit.

Go and fuck yourself and stick the ashes up your smelly arse faggot.

Why do you see everything as a Lord Kitchener Your Country Needs You cunt? Don't you think these current riders are fuckng up to the eyeballs on concoctions and blood tranfusions and monkey gland capsules. Look at David Millar - cinvicted ex druggie. Chris Froome - oh yeah the asthma puffers were medicinal. Oh yeah. Bradley Wiggins dropped out of cycling (and sight) as soon as serious qyestions were asked about his recird and samples. The 1950s Tom Simpson actually died on Ventoux of a drug/exhaustion overdose. So fuck off with your jingoism.

If you had followed this up with a reference to Kafka I would agree with you. Even John Fowles would have done. As it is I can only pity you.

The council-estate-slut-voice seems to be doing the rounds at the moment. As for Joe Swash, he works cheap. He could have been a contender. (joking)

I expected a lycra joke from you Paws. You disappoint my (due to high altitude training and not two months on a Dyson ventilator) oxygen drenched brain.

Don't start me off about my chopper!

The one who made everyone without a silver spoon stuck up their arse laugh.

You only know him from his five minute appearance in The Italian Job.

Forgive me for being a grumpy old whiner, and cycling friendly, but since the OTT ritual public de-throning of Lance Armstrong hasn't this event passed into the realm of sheer boring television for fanatics only? Gone are the days of exciting duels between realistic men such as Jan Ullrich, Marco Pantini and Armstrong laying it all on the line for Tour glory, their health their life even. Sure, they were technical, with team and tactics deployed like a precision Swiss watch. Sure they were busy injecting themselves in the thigh and faking urine samples. But they themselves weren't fakes like the presentday "competitors" in the sport, with their total lack of life experience, inability to communicate, failure to inspire. These boring cunts like Froome and Pojacar can't hold a candle (and neither can commentators like chirpy David Millar or dull Chris Boardman, a fucking pair of Coronation Street gossips, compared with the late Paul Sherwen and living legend Phil Leggett with their entertaining and informative banter) to the great cyclists of the past. These were men who seemed to have stepped out of the pages of Edgar Rice Burroughs' novels such as Tarzan and John Carpenter validating Ray Bradbury's assessment that he was the greatest writer of the last century because he inspired a generation of boys to go into the world with the belief they could be special. And now instead of the superhuman battles of the past we have this fucking shitty little creep boring us silly as with the whole fucking set up of the neatly calculated Tour: