The little bastard’s got gay-face going on for days, that’s for damned sure.

It’s also the name of a clothing store. Maybe she liked their snazzy jackets and comfortable brogues...no, wait, she eats a joyless diet, so she clearly isn’t into comfort.

Bacon, honey - you don’t mind if I call you Bacon, right? - honey, I want you to listen very carefully because I think all of your foo-foods have killed your single duty neuron...

I loved the album, but I particularly loved The Pleasure Principle. If you hear it in the background, it’s just a pleasant, if unusual 1980s track. And then, when you read the lyrics, it definitely comes across as a “fuck you kindly and with something hard and sandpapery” ode to her father. I mean, ouch.

I shall join you in seeking out a new name. From henceforth, you ungrateful minions (especially you, yes, you, the fat one at the back) will refer to me as Kitteny StormDragon OR FEEL MY INFINITE WRATH!

There’s a shit-tonne of nasty-arse comfortable slacks in the gentleman section of their wee parade. Shall I unleash the machine guns or the wasps?

And if they had had their little march here in Glasgow, more than likely a few mademoiselles would have given them a Glasgow Smile or maybe a wee Kiss. (Just be grateful my Grandmother wasn’t in SF - she’d have joined in with the Nipplethon *and* provided crocheted nipple tassels *and* hot snacks *and* a choice of…

I’d prefer calling them “murderous scum who should be sterilised and their children taken into care and vaccinated”, myself. Best place for people like that is behind bars.

To put it rather nastily - you’re friends with people who are willing to let their children die because of their beliefs. Get new friends.

I’m in a family that saw what vaccine refusal could do back in the 1950s and, well, I’m not sympathetic to these individuals. There really should be some sort of jail sentence or fine that these precious snowflakes have to pay if they refuse to have their womb-goo vaccinated. Better still, just round them all up and…

I’d rather ask the women at my gym who wear Spanx to take the damned things off. Dears, you’re fooling no one.

You mean you didn’t do the clingy-top-tutu combo? Shame on you.

I watched Sex and the City with my sister when it first came out. At the time, we both liked Samantha far more than Carrie, simply because Carrie, to me, represented everything wrong with 1990s feminism. She was also a materialistic fucknugget who spent far too much time wanking herself silly over stupid, ugly shoes…

I’ll get you, my pretty, you and your little dog too!

Sod the missile fakes - I love that batshit commentator!

I’d be more impressed with that Jenner creature if she said she - and her godawful dangleberry family - were all going into a nunnery. Well, maybe not Kris, but they’re making a new Pacific Rim. Kaiju Jenner?

Here’s an actual question I’d like answered by the denizens of Southern Canada...

Ah, the Boring-Yet-Handsome crowd. I used to go out with a BYH guy about three years ago. He was godlike, tall, toned, with black hair and deeply beautiful green eyes. Not bad in the trouser department either. And yet, sex with him was a fucking chore (seriously. I got more kicks from doing the hoovering and believe me…

Not the Châteauneuf-du-Pape!!!!

KICK HIM IN THE RAISINS FOR FUCK’S SAKE. FOR THE LOVE OF HUMANITY, BOOT HIM IN HIS TINY WEE BALLS.