Cuntybaws

Quisling Cockfingers. It has a certain ring to it.

If we had no rules where would we be? France! If we had too many rules where would we be? Germany!

Breakfast of champions.

I was never confused!

There's the banjo serenader, and the others of his race, And the piano-organist — I've got him on the list! And the people who eat peppermint and puff it in your face, They never would be missed — they never would be missed! Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone, All centuries but this, and every country but his own; And the lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy, And who "doesn't think she dances, but would rather like to try"; And that singular anomaly, the lady novelist...

Anyone who has made £20m from shameless nepotism, corruption and shady arms deals can't be all bad.

I did allude at the time to an increasing readiness to make things public that should perhaps have been dealt with in private. Reports, IP addresses, perfectly innocent Darkseid IDs, that kind of thing. If this is indeed all you reported, you have been unjustly treated as a result. I still say you should be dissolved in fuming sulphuric acid for the multiquote stuff, though.

Any cunt interested in one of Maggie's handbags - for whatever perverted reason - already buys the Daily fucking Mail. The Dacre cunt has pissed away his £50k for nothing.

I'm just waiting for it to grow back bigger.

Perhaps you can tell us how that feels?

I'm not sure I like your tone. In fact, I think the French are going on my list now...

The less-than-grammatical "Kill then kill them slowly...bastards" by Dan German on 4th February. As noted in post 6 on page 1, you blind cunt. (No offence, don't curse me.)

He's fucking right, though, but what do you expect from Yorkshire vermin?

That's a harsh thing to say about a man who's never posted any fucking repeat bollocks in his entire life. No, wait...

Every dog is allowed one bite. Except for Irish dogs. Fucking wolfhounds...!

I have a chauffeur for that. Oops, sorry, wrong ID...

Well, fucking obviously it's the Euro-squandering southern cunts in the cross hairs - unless you bowler-hatted Six Counties oiks have taken up bog-trotting and eating raw potatoes since I was last there? I'll add to the list as time goes by. One very important bullet point I omitted earlier was: Cunts who wang on about fucking tie pins, cravats, and the like.

100% of zero is still zero. Imaginary friends don't count.

Just while we're on the subject, please also avoid the following topics: The quaint characters of Norwich/Norfolk Football being for irons. (Golf being for irons is also no longer funny) Lovable Scotsmen being cunts (although the Irish and Welsh remain fair game, sorry Spot.) Anything else I find boring (this varies daily, but please make an effort.) I will tolerate Proper's occasional coverage of matters medical (well, I have to now that he's got the keys to the gold crapper) but some of the above shit is frankly Jazz-like.

I'm sure there is the occasional decent landord out there (commercial or otherwise), and it's possible that – like black swans – there may even be one or two decent tenants too. My beef is not with them, per se, more with the repeated need to discuss personal rent-related matters in tedious detail in these hallowed pages. In fairness, that's mostly Ding, but others should hang their heads too. No-one wants to hear the soul-crushingly miserable stories of their day-to-day lives recounted on here.

I bet you got at least half way through "Shaving Ryan's Privates" before you started to wonder where Tom Hanks had got to?

It wasn't funny the first time, and repetition isn't going to help. You fucking spastic.

“An” Xmas? You don't pronounce it “Ex-mas”, surely, not a good Pope-loving boy like yourself? You fucking spastic.

The Iliad was a classic, completely ruined by the lame rehash of the Aeneid. There's nothing new under the sun.