Cuntybaws

Given current supply side issues arising from the geopolitical instability in Ukraine, is it still economically viable to gas their arses?

1) Rioja? 2) Bill IS the runt. 3) This is a trap, right? 4) He's not allowed matches. 5) See 2). 6) Waiter, maybe. 7) He was quite rude to me earlier, does that count? 8) Mmm, tasty.

Attempts to dress these proposals up in fancy "science" are futile. Let's face it, we all know a fat cunt when we see one, no need for metrics. Besides, surely it's better that fat cunts and smokers pay shitloads of tax and then die relatively young, rather than jog and eat vegetables and hang on to some sort of half-life for decades of dementia care and state pension provision. That said, give me a shout back once they start discriminating based on IQ rather than BMI.

As I suspected, somewhat ambiguous. https://www.monmoredogs.co.uk

Sorry, I genuinely misread that. My subconscious must have been reacting to subliminal cues triggered by the close proximity of Manky's name.

Mrs Baws : "Let's go for afternoon tea, that's sophisticated." Me: "Like fuck, that's for pretentious cunts with dried up twats. Cucumber sandwiches and scones are shit." Mrs Baws: "Oh, do you think so?" Me: "Ow. Fucking hell...FUCK... OW! Not the face... NO, NOT THE BOLLOCKS EITHER!" Me: "Well, I DO like Victoria Sponge cake. Sophisticated, you say? Ow."

You've got to listen to the notes I'm not playing, Good luck at the dogs.

Manky's alright, Tot. He makes me laugh, which is more than can be said for Frank these days, which is hard to understand as normally I think cancer is pretty funny.

I'm not on Facebook because - and I shouldn't have to tell you this - Facebook is for cunts. So is LinkedIn. If you're on either, that further vindicates my decision. As for university, it is a mathematical and biological certainty that I have more degrees than you have testicles. It's statistically likely that I have more doctorates than you have testicles, too. Soppy cunt.

Cunting site won't let me give this two likes, sorry.

It's somehow faintly surreal when someone posts actual pictures of real people on the Corner. Anyone remember mrain and his increasingly bizarre series of photo nominations which culminated with the tragicomic "Lonely man in Apple Store"? There really have been some weird fucking cockwombles over the years.

From Hull Polytechnic to Keble College Oxford, from spotty adolescents to mature students, from media studies to post doctoral particle physics, every single student I have ever encountered is a total fucking cuntwaffle. They may be fine before they go, and they may be fine after they're done, but in that smug, self-satisfied scarf wearing period of actual studenthood you can see why some cunts with automatic rifles go all Anders Breivik on their arses.

Up your flapjacks!

Sorry, the tiny shitty keyboard is somewhat blurry at the moment. Beer goggles are all well and good for making Mrs Baws look more attractive, but they're fucking useless when it comes to cunting.

Here are some pointed iPhone symbols of things you can stuff up your fucking arse. ??✊?????????????

This was technically a rhetorical statement rather than a rhetorical question, which does not require a question mark.

I believe you meant to say, "Eidetic savant".

You must have felt a right cunt when you realised that the entire shopping centre had been gazing in horror at the wank you had to pass the time while waiting to be rescued. Glass elevators suck.

My very first ever post on the Corner was on a nomination about people who go on cruises. Doesn't time fly when you're having fun. If I remember correctly (and you know I do) said post concerned a family of cunts in the US who complained after it turned out that all the other passengers were part of a 2500-strong block booking of bikers. Their dream holiday was somewhat spoiled by heavy rock 24x7 and people puking and shagging in the pool. I also recall that the first reply I got was from Fender, accusing me of being a multi. Plus ca change...

If you've ever been in a lift and felt the urge to kill yourself under the depressing influence of the background music, then you've probably heard his work.

More places became available at the Oxbridge colleges in the late sixties and early seventies after the Russians stopped funnelling chinless gay spies through them. Kim Philby was an Anthony Blunt.

I wouldn't put my cock anywhere near Stacey Dooley's mouth. I suspect that a DNA swab of her throat would produce such a high volume of results that even Gil Grissom would struggle to make sense of them.

This scruffy, Droopy-looking Welsh fanny has just composed a new piece to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Aberfan disaster. Slag. Can't wait for his Hillsborough piece.

Daughter? That's his fucking mum!

AKA my entry in the "Describe your cock" section of my Ashley Madison profile.