The 80s, not the 70s, was the decade that taste forgot, Ms Muncy. Believe me, I remember it vividly. From the subtle horrors of plastic earrings (seriously, women, why? Why the fuck would you do that to yourself?) to the atrocity known as Dynasty affecting fashions for a good fucking ten to fifteen years, the 80s was…

There are many ways that my wee country is fucking better than yours, especially in cases like this. Someone suggested that upskirting was banned in Scotland because of men wearing kilts - well, yes, that’s one aspect (though the number of men who wear a kilt on a daily basis is smaller than you would think) but also…

Yes, yes he is a cunt. As my sister said this morning, he’s a prolapsed cunt.

No, it is not true. It’s traditional to go bare-arsed with a kilt but believe me, myself and a number of my fellow Scots will wear underwear underneath. Mostly because kilts can sometimes be made from rather...itchy...material and also, well, sexual assaults. There’s also the highly probable “upwind incident” such as…

I am *so* happy about this. Lucifer is one of the better supernatural-themed shows (looking at you, oh-bloated-corpse only serving to keep those two fuckwits in a paycheque) *and* by being on Netflix, hopefully we can see some of the more adult-themed storylines that the show has alluded to in the past. Plus, hello -…

I love it when people start flinging fairy-tales as justification for their hatred. It makes it so much easier to wish for them to meet a grisly end.

Girvan, eh? I wonder if they’re referring to the old Ladyburn distillery. Either way, the Girvan product is lovely by itself but it does make a lovely blend with others. I’m not surprised that Aldi gets top marks for their products - they’re frequently beating the bigger supermarkets in both taste, value and price for…

Of course she’s got a big ole shamrock slapped across her double-d’s. Of course. And - not being familiar with this character, thus a quick trip to the murky murks of Wikipedia was in order - I am sorely disappointed to find that she doesn’t fire said-shamrocks from her nipples when attacked. Poltergeist and undead…

There are currently just under 8 billion faces of God. Or is that names?

Afri-Cola! Not my personal favourite rip-off Coca Cola (that will, forever, go to the dubious delights of Vita Cola) but, still a damned good mixer with vodka.

One of my friends, who is a vegan and has no problems cooking turkey (“Why? Because turkeys are cunts and ugly ones to boot”) said that one of her favourite things to do is to tell vegans about advanced in growing meat products. Oh, the knots they get themselves into. Does a lab-grown burger have a soul? Oh, the…

I thought joggers were toned and handsome (like yon Ridiculously Photogenic dude), not adorned with a facial merkin and carrying a pot-belly.

I bet the “heavy wash” button’s been well fingered in that household.

*dies*

Oh, for the love of Baby Satan...

As my mother once snarked, upon discovering that our old neighbours were expecting their fifth bundle of joy, “her fanny must be down by her ankles by now”. (Please bear in mind that we’re Scottish and we use the word fanny to describe a woman’s ladygarden and the word cunt is frequently used as a term of endearment)

Kill it. Kill it with fire. We may need to nuke the site from orbit - it may be the only way to make sure...

Oh.

Yes. A billion times this. Kick him in the fucking tiny grapes betwix his legs and prevent that piece of shit from procreating.

I’d call it HP. I’m in Scotland, not that place circling Mordor across The Pond...