When I hear the word “Moist”, I automatically think of various jokes I’ve heard on British telly about certain corners of the human body that trap - and breed - moisture and odour. Moist gusset, anybody? It doesn’t help that when people say “moist” they somehow, probably subconsciously, say it in a way that makes it…

Yeah.  I actively disliked David and his cat’s-arse mouth before, and this?  This made me start to hate him.  I predict I’ll be chanting “BURN IT!” next time when he rams something in the oven...

Zooey Deschanel, a woman infamous for trying too hard to get people to like her, is dating/shagging a man famous for trying too hard to get people to think he’s straight.

I take it you have no fear of naked flames?

Reminds me of one of my grandmother’s more vicious snarks to my idiot cousin: “don’t wear white, dear. The Devil’s not that keen on liars.”

Probably that time my college group and the French students we were studying/working with conspired to get an irritating wee fucknugget called Karen (or fucking Karen) lost in France. Twas quite easy.

You know what? Whenever you hear “X has come for Chrissy Tiegen”, you know you’ll end up grinning like a lunatic at the verbal slapping visited on their face.

The useless slags that run that site have blocked non-US users from viewing their “quality wares”.  Someone provide a link?  Daddy’s not in the mood to do the whole fake-an-ISP-thing...

I’m a huge fan of bruschetta, but more so of taking a slab of toasted ciabatta, slicing roughly into thumb-thick wedges, rubbing garlic and salt together to make a paste, spread the paste on the bread, then top with a thick slice of decent Parmesan or cheddar and then, a la Villanelle, crushing a fresh tomato on top…

Resorts.  Your President owns two properties in my county.  We’d rather nuke them into oblivion, but heydy-ho...

*raises paw* I’ll say this about Prestwick Airport - it’s close to some really rather nice wee B&Bs in the Ayrshire countryside. Cumbrae’s just round the headland from the airport too - I’m sure American servicefolk’d rather stay in a nice wee B&B. Just not that one I ended up in in Girvan back in 1999 run by a woman…

That’s the sort of shit my sister would want to wear if I ever deigned to marry Mr Vinegar. I’ve heard various wanker-cousins of mine declare “Just wear what you want, as long as it’s comfortable!” and then watch them get hissy because X person turns up wearing trousers (gosh, how horrific - a woman wearing trousers!)…

Finally - FINALLY - after three years of telling my fucking employers that my mental health is more important than my apparent “Magical Ability To Keep Our Customers”, I’m starting a new role in my organisation, one where I get to make other people’s lives hell (well, the managers in my company) and get to dictate,…

A toilet at T In The Park, in a portable toilet, with my very-now-ex-fucking-boyfriend, in 2007. The sex was spectacularly shit and the air stank of it. God knows why we decided to shag in a toilet (oh, hold on, it was because we’d both got as high as kittens in a testing facility and as horny as you could and no one…

Take your fucking star, god-fucking-damn it!

Oh, this fuckwit. I was yapping to one of the less irritating vegans in my office today and even she was saying she was tempted to drive a tanker of pigs blood to this woman’s house and give her a good dousing.

I see a SUPER FLUFFY FLUFFSTER DEMANDING TO BE SNUGGLED AND BE FED THE VERY BEST TREATS!!!  

Out of morbid curiosity, how long does it take for peroxide to kill someone?  I mean, her brain’s already atrophied, so I’m assuming she’s soon to melt into a pool of bubbling goo...

Ah, Jacob Rees-Cunt.  The prick who cheerleads no-deal Brexit and yet makes sure that his own company and money is safe in Ireland.  The little fucktard needs exposed to sunlight.  Revolting, vile, nasty wee cunt.

Oh, Trump.  Shut your fucking hole, you underwhelming saggy queef of a man.