“Wednesday’s at that very special age when a girl has only one thing on her mind.”

Oh come now. We can’t go on about Wednesday without mentioning what was unquestionably one of the best bits of the film. Who would have thought a kid’s film would have bitchslapped US culture, eh?

You and I know that line has one of the sneakiest double-entendres going!

What, you mean like Zooey Deschanel?  *flee*

Depends.  Which one do you think is lactose intolerant?  My money’s on the fat lizard.

Do people actually do that? I’d ban them from my establishment for all eternity for that shit. That’s just rude.

Be kind. The fine denizens of St Louis were too busy “perfecting” food (when they discovered low-sodium Campbells soup it certainly revolutionised their casserole game!) to focus on some pesky thing called “punctuation” or “grammar”.  Or cholesterol, come to think of it.  Or taste.  Or decency.  Or dignity.

I bet yon Umar Lee hyperventilates when he’s presented with a marshmallow casserole with a sprinkling of bacon bits and cayenne pepper.  Stay in your lane, Midwest, stay in your fucking lane.

Don’t forget the bacon bits!

That tapenade looks like shit.  Must be wildly popular with the uneducated Karens and that one blogger who came on here thinking she knew about hummus.

The more you read into this guys backstory, the more you want to scour yourself with steel wool. I recommend you do not go on a deep-dive into this guy.  

OH COME ON NOW KIDS, you have to include my favourite scene. Four...four...four...yes Greg?

The Brady films are some of my favourites of the 90s, if only for Jan.  Jan, the fucking nutjob of that whole incestuous clan (so American) who is also, bizarrely, the one we all want to know.  

Never got drunk off boozy ice cream but I have had a buzz off those booze-filled wee chocolates. In fact, the first time I got drunk (ah, nine year old me was so fucking daring) was when I nicked my aunt’s whisky liqueurs, scarpered to a room under the stairs in her godawful house (Eternal Beau, Brits. Eternal Fucking…

Oh, you’ll get it. Morgan is loathed over here in Britain. Absolutely fucking loathed.

Thomas Markle is the luckiest whore I’ve ever seen.  All that jetting about, getting about and that fat fuckwit hasn’t caught covid?  

So this dick-zit’s off for “professional counselling” - when do the rest of his “followers” go for deprogramming?  Cults are a dangerous, dangerous things, kids!

Oh honey.  You’re a fucking stellar cluster!  Take your damned star!

Well, we’ve all seen Bettany’s arse in A Knight’s Tale!

I’ve said it elsewhere, but I’m going to say it again: it’s interesting to see his reaction to two women of colour telling him to cram his opinions on what is and what isn’t racism and then to see him storm off when a man of colour tells him more or less the exact same fucking thing. He won’t be missed.