“A fire broke out in the Curling Bros. barbershop in Westlake, N.Y. in 1891. All the shaving tonics with their spearmint, lime, vanilla and lavender burned. A charred bottle was found half-full. It smelled like this”

Why do those two look like apes in drag about to throw their shit around an enclosure? People - this is why you use protection: you don’t want to risk birthing that.

Darling, who?  I know who Mescal is but, erm, who are these other two?  Are they famous?  Do they think they’re famous?  Did one of them have a sex tape?  Shit the bed?  Well?

It was Winslet. It’s always Winslet.

Question: do you stand to benefit financially from keeping these people around?

Eh, who gives a fuck if the gravy’s lumpy. All you need is...

I was going to do this as a reply to someone else on this thread, but I decided to add to my original post based on a conversation my mother and I had regarding this shite (she finds the furore regarding Harry and Meghan hilarious btw)...

Eh, just get a kitchen tap (sorry, “faucet”) with an extending hose and you can haul the tap to the hob and fill it as you please.  Also handy for hosing the cat off the fucking worktop after you’ve told the Death Wish Kitteh a hundred times to stay the fuck off the worktop..

I’m sorry - but Daredevil’s got a reputation for being a bit...hilarious in the comics. And that Walk o’ Shame was totally in character for him. And it was fucking funny. So, yeah, more Matt being a berk please.

Is it really time for another hate-watch of Emily The Vapid Yank in Paris? I better round up my French co-workers for this one and fetch the cidre (it’s like French apple wine but far nicer than you think. Goes faboo with vodka) and the absinthe shots for every fucked-up “fashion choice” that wee moron wears.

So...it’s boozy water with a wee tiny ejaculation of fruit-jizz? Come on, you’re better than...no, wait, you can do better than that. Try Glayva. G’wan. (PS - Angela: love your hair!)

Oh, and stop trying to make Chicago Wet Beef happen. It’s not appetising-looking enough to warrant a sniff of attention from the rest of the nation and everyone knows that only misery and incest come out of the Mid-West.

Less articles on chicken burgers would be fabulous. You are aware that other meats exist, yes? Stop being basic, start being imaginative.

God, I’ve heard about BBC catering.  I’d gladly snaffle up as much free soup and cold cuts if they offered it to me.  

For Your Eyes Only? Oh, darling, darling, no. Us Scots can’t listen to that song or watch that film without cringing remembering Sheena Easton warbling about a commuter train. Get thee to a nunnery! I bet you’ve even got a teal jumpsuit, you filthpot...

They’re probably thinking of those days when their tweenage loins pulsated forth at the sight of him in that godawful and forgettable series of films about the whiny Korean chick.  

Grand. Now, lock that fucker away until sunlight becomes a fucking memory.

Sorry, bubs, but goat cheese rolled in shit is already something fairly fucking ancient served up here in Scotland. It’s called Caboc, and it’s divine. It’s literally just a log of goats cheese rolled in toasted pinwheel oatmeal (my favourite kind for making cranachan too, I hasten to add, but that’s a four-ingredient…

It - I refuse to call it “he” - is saying that it believes this “furore” will blow over and it’ll be back, same bat-time, same bat-channel, writing up shit about people and things for outrage points.

*files claws*