It doesn’t matter when the crops were planted, or harvested, or wanked over by an Italian widow - if they claim to come from San Marzano, they better fucking have the appropriate label/seal and be from San Marzano. Why? Because you just cannot label something from the EU as being X-brand if it isn’t. Just as how…

The one to throw in these people’s faces are the Dark Lady sonnets by Shakespeare (127 to 154). In fact, let’s have a taste of her, yeah?

Honestly? I’m going to refer to a friend’s comments about Stan. She felt that Stan represented that subset of closetcase who wants a bit of a thrill, a bit of danger and excitement and, for him, Angel represented that. He was remarkably emotionally shitty to both her and Patty (incidentally, I personally think Patty…

I’m so happy - so, so, so, so fucking happy - that this is coming back for a couple of very powerful reasons.

We all know those two “bros” grew up fingering each other.  

Who the hell watches “What A Girl Wants”?  It keeps popping up on my Prime “recommendations” list.  Bitch, please, but no.

Oh, and before any whinging cunt harps on about “acid attacks” - pissflap, please. Where was your indignation when Jo Cox was assassinated by one of your fellow right-wing nutjobs? Exactly.  Sit down, shut the fuck up and play with yourselves.

Remember, dears, here in the UK we can do this sort of shenanigan without any mindless fat fuck pulling a gun out of their lacy y-fronts. And if you are planning to do something like glazing a putrid sack of aborted slug fetuses with a cheap overly-sweet confection? Chocolate milkshakes are best. They stain.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’m actually voting for Kevin for a change. Usually his food choices are the culinary equivalent of fucking Aaron Schock - you know it’s basic, you know it’s been whored out to death and you know you’ll get something itchy or something that gives you the chronic shits afterwards…

Yeah, your claim about your hot dogs is pure a-grade horseshit, bub. Eat your slime-dog and have an ebola salad too.

As for Jamie Oliver...I have no time for him. I was “treated” to a meal at one of his restaurants a few years ago and, boy, was the food mediocre. I suppose if you’re from the land of corn syrup and sugar-laden breakfast “cereal” the food would be considered “fine” but it was mediocre at best. And I won’t shed a tear…

Well, this has taken American culinary bastardisation to a whole new level. You should add cheese! and “bacon” (for American bacon is nothing but cremated rubber, dears) to qualify for a place on Tasty.

The Micromasters were actually sort of cool in a shrunken sort of way.  They were definitely better than the Pretenders though.  Mind you, without the Pretenders, we wouldn’t have had the seriously squicky Alice from yon Michael Bay wank-fest...

I know.

You know what I found fucking incredible about last year’s Swedish entry? That Benjamin Ingrosso is the younger brother of a DJ who has worked with Avicii, that his cousin - Sebastian Ingrosso - is a member of Swedish House Mafia...and this was what he performed? (And the live version doesn’t really compare to the…

Be grateful it wasn’t the British entry.  An awful Brexity dirge sung by a fat boy who looked like he would rather be on a piss-up in Sitges does not make good Eurovision.

You know, I know that my country is going down the shitter thanks to Brexit (and I know that it’s only a temporary thing because, LOL if you think the young ones are going to stick with it once their mums and dads have mercifully died) but...jesus fucking christ, I’m so glad that I don’t live in the USA. Holy fuck.…

Hey, white-trolls! She was following the rules! She did fucking nothing wrong! Stop embarrassing yourselves and accept that she did fuck-all-wrong!

I never understand my fellow bleached-milk people for claiming to not understand or “comprehend” why black America would be “angry” (given the individual, I’d be tempted to label it “incandescent with rage”)

Yeah, you rock.  *fist-bump*