bump.

I dont think I got any sort of a lashing. You cheated me Jon.

can i have another serving?

Oh, well, please bless me with your infinite forgiveness for my craven sin.

Due to circumstances beyond my control, I've been too happy in recent months to correctly form the vitriolic verbal-bile necessary to dole out soul-crushing insults of ineffable might.

Fortunately for you, I've had an amazingly crappy past day, and my bile levels are such that I'm positively brimming with spiteful insight.

So I suggest that you retreat back into the pocked and scaborous husk that you call your head, as were I to unleash the full brunt of my insult-glands, a pitiful and pathetic mortal such as yourself would no doubt be crushed like a cheating husband on Dr Phil, which is probably where you rightly belong on a program titled "even cockroaches flee from me in disgust".



Disclaimer: seeing as this thread has been inactive for some months, it's only right to point out to any new readers that in fact, I'm a lovely person who doesn't mean any nasty things that are said in this thread, which itself is meant as a karmic and social balancer, to ensure that anyone who's not been insulted of late can be insulted and ridiculed in a safe and controlled environment. Today's insult is brought to you by the letter P, and the number 12.

Bring. It. On. You know you can't touch this.

Jonman: I am feeling very secure in the forum as of late and have not been insulted (that I know of) for a number of monthes here, if ever. I'd like to break that record. Could you help me? Also I'm drunk. Use that if you like.

How would you insult a zesty such as myself? Very curious here.

Cheese is funny? Yeah, so is herpes, obviously.

Thank you MC Hammer.

The reason I can't touch it is due to a very healthy fear of communicable diseases that a member of the great unwashed such as yourself might possess. I suppose that one's ever evolving collection of weeping sores and pulsating pustules could provide a talking point to break the ice as you huddle around the barrel of burning garbage. Until I begin to move in those same circles, I choose to remain plague-free. Call it a life choice.

And on that note, I bid thee all goodnight. I may return to heap scorn upon more of you later this weekend, if I can summon the immense willpower it takes to overcome good sense, and even think about thinking about you all.