Don’t hold your breath. He can’t get rid of a wee woman living next to his precious (crap) wee golf course!

The Girl Who Wanted To Return A Gift And Forgot She Left The Receipt In The Car With The Kids And Oh God Did She Remember To Put The Window Down...

I’m confused, Kathy - where’s the pack of rabid pissing hookers, whose urine can melt titanium?

You know, for a boy born on Mars, he’s no Nirgal, that’s for sure. He’s awfully....small.

Why is this rapist still alive? Why hasn’t someone found a way to put a bullet in his head?

Na, Melania’s just a fembot, a useful vagina. That’s all.

Admission is the first step towards recovery, Casey.

He won’t last more than a year. I can see the Republican scum doing what they do so, so well - sticking the knife in, getting rid of the orange testicular cancer-ball, installing Pence (who is even more revolting). The good thing? The amount of damage these fuckwits will do over the next four years should make the…

I don’t think “Wanna see Marilyn’s tits?” is going to have the same effect as “Wanna see Lucy’s tits?” But, goddamn, Gillian Anderson. American Gods cannot get here fast enough.

I don’t think “Wanna see Marilyn’s tits?” is going to have the same effect as “Wanna see Lucy’s tits?” But, goddamn, Gillian Anderson. American Gods cannot get here fast enough.

That’d be Fuller House. I kept watching, hoping for either a murderous babysitter or for a Bible to throw itself onto the fires of several careers, but sadly, no.

Is this your first time laughing at an article by Casey Chan? Please find your membership card, welcome pack and complimentary “I laughed at Casey!” sticker!

To make us believe they’re looking into the unrelenting face of cancellation?

Her voice is truly beautiful:

I’m going to echo a sentiment I read on someone’s Facebook post last night regarding this.

You stick to Fuller House and keep on praising the shite-fest that was Ghostbuster, dearie.

Just remember - burning bush isn’t just a euphemism for a rash on your vaj, ladies. (or, as a particularly foulmouthed specimen I worked with who hailed from Easterhouse - it’s not as pretty as it sounds - would shriek “Ye’ve got a vaj on tha’ raj!”)

I’ll always remember that scene if only for the “What the fuck is this, The Piano? Why ain’t this broad talking?” - a reference to God being written for Holly Hunter (and apparently Emma Thompson was originally cast).

Yup. Clearly these amateurs have never watched Drag Race...

Heh. The pig-fucking. Never has art mirrored life so damned well.