i will smash you in the face
if i hear you say the word arks (or however it is spelt)instead of the word ask.
(ivebeenhigh i've climbed so high, Mon 5 May 2008, 11:48, Reply)

people who use the word randomly
when they mean conincidentally
(ivebeenhigh i've climbed so high, Mon 5 May 2008, 11:45, 2 replies)

I'm sure I'm not alone in hating
the people who crowd round the doors of a train when I'm trying to get off. I tend to use my cello as a battering ram, which works nicely.
(09824739yhsidfhshfgq8weeq3e1, Mon 5 May 2008, 11:28, 5 replies)

BelmsfordSux
it may help if you read all the thread

i can assure you no one has been called a 'dyke'

you however are clearly a muppet
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Mon 5 May 2008, 11:28, 4 replies)

Hometown
I come from a place called Walsall in the Black Country, West Midlands.

Pronunciation varies. BBC newsreaders (when they get a chance to say it) say "wal-sorl" or "wal-sal". In a thick Black Country accent it can be pronounced "wair-sil". Most people I know usually say "wor-sul" or "wor-sorl". I tend towards the former, "wor-sul".

So why is it, whenever I introduce myself to people and tell them where I'm from, they say "Really? You're Polish?"

Even Polish people. Christ.

These days I usually say "I'm from near Birmingham."
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Mon 5 May 2008, 11:27, 2 replies)

Fat ugly girls, often with a piercing and/or tramp stamp, wearing a top and trouser combo that shows their entire midrift to the world,
here's a hint honey, just 'cos some skinny blonde in a girl band did it and it looked sexy, this does not necessarily mean you will too.

*edit* I feel I should clarify as I put in the 'No fat ugly chicks' post right after the 'Skinny ain't sexy' one, big can indeed be sexy (ever seen big goth chicks in those corset/bustier things they wear!?) but if you are, popular thinny fashions like thongs and tight cut off tops will not, so for everyone's sake, look in the frickin mirror before you leave the house, nobody needs to see your stretch marks when they're shopping for chicken, it'll just confuse things. ;)
( ..wil, Mon 5 May 2008, 11:10, 2 replies)

Skinny
I hate the way the media automatically portrays thin as good. I mean, when was the last time you saw a curvy person on an advert? (talking mainly about women here, there are a few chubby guys on beer adverts etc)

Every single woman on the adverts is painfully thin. This, along with celebrity magazines and model culture, contributes to the rise in eating disorders.

I myself prefer girls who carry a bit of weight (or more than a bit, I don't really mind). I like to curl up to them at night and in the morning, I love the way their skin cushions me when I hug them, I love feeling their weight on top of me, I love the outline of their body.

I haven't liked thin girls since I was about 12, and let's face it, most girls are thin when they're 12, having not quite gone through puberty and all.

Women, embrace your curves! Love your love-handles and cellulite! Next time you see Kate Moss, just imagine all her bones breaking and grinding away during sex, until she becomes nothing but a pile of dust. Why would you want to be like that?

It's time everyone took a stand and stopped the shameless one-sided promotion of body-image. That said, the Dove Real Beauty Campaign is a step in the right direction.
(pacman_40 Pocket Kleenex: for the wanker on the go, Mon 5 May 2008, 11:08, 3 replies)

All those cunts...
..who clog up the motorway by driving in the middle lane!
(Cane: I love Sushi, Sobriety & Shotokan, Mon 5 May 2008, 11:03, 2 replies)

The word 'like'
being used as punctuation by gormless people. The red mist descends, and my knuckles start to itch, because they never do it once, but pepper the word throughout statements without ever once constructing a coherent narrative or argument.
I know it's a small, petty thing; there are many like it, but this one is mine.
( uncle bastard is twanging a dan moi, Mon 5 May 2008, 11:03, 2 replies)

Bare
Men who take their shirts off when they play football.

Newsflash, fuck-knuckles! Not everyone wants to see your 'toned abs', most of which are, in reality flabby pasty-skinned lumps of beer-belly. If I want to see topless men I'll go to a body-building contest thank you very much.

If women went around topless then they'd be arrested, unless they happen to be on a beach. Nipple are still nipples, whichever way you look at it.
(pacman_40 Pocket Kleenex: for the wanker on the go, Mon 5 May 2008, 10:48, 4 replies)

Macro. Fucking bastard Macro. The shop.
Well, not so much a shop as a warehouse cash and carry thing - when I was sixteen I worked there on and off for two years, and I honestly believe that my experiences there with Joe Public have shaped me into the bitter, people hating person that I am.

I started to make a list of things that upset me, I presume in an attempt to vent - which lay forgotten for years (I'm now 25.) I found it recently and it made me laugh (To be honest, when I wrote it I wasn't fucking laughing.)

No-one has ever seen it except me - and now you lot.

THINGS MACRO CUSTOMERS DO THAT PISS ME OFF

Picking stuff up, then putting it back down

Putting stuff back that doesn't belong there

The way they come at you with a trolley, deliberately not looking, expecting you to move

The way they always seem to block the shelf you're working on, but never fucking buy it

The way they think they can hurt you by saying "Fine, I'll go to ASDA. It's cheaper." And smile.

"Where's the tonic water?" "It's in the next aisle." "No it's not." Err..yes it fucking well is. They never admit they're wrong when you prove it.

When they drop something and it breaks and then they walk away really quickly and everyone else walks through it! Well done!

The Regular Who Thinks He's Your Friend And Asks For A Discount And Gets Arsey When You Say No.

When you're struggling with something really heavy, and they come up to you and go "excuse me, excuse me, excuse me" until you stop.

The way they expect you to know the price of everything in the store.

Asking for stuff which is obviously frozen - while standing in the paperware aisle, which is on the other end of the store.

When the customer whose kids are misbehaving tell them if they don't pack it in the MAN will get them - pointing at you. The kids then looks at you as if they're about to get raped.

Asking for stuff which blatantly we don't have. Looking at the empty shelf then asking if we have any.

Do You Work Here?

Where is blah blah? Standing next to it.

Asking for something when I know damn well they've not even looked.

Walking up to you and just going "Cat food?" CUNTS AAAARRGHGHNT£N

Blocking the entire aisle with their family and trolley and deliberately not making eye contact.

Walking extra slowly in front of you while you're pulling a pallet of stuff.

Asking you to carry something for them when they're empty handed.

Getting angry when the delivery lorry hasn't arrived.

The way they approach the checkout. Hurry, hurry, the world will end
if I don't pay for my ketchup before that other guy

The way they collar me when I'm on my way to my break

My personal favourite: "The way they walk around with that stupid look on their face." Nice!

Taking stuff off wrapped pallets.

When they walk up behind you when you're wrapping something so
you bump into them, then they go mental at you.

Or when they talk to you while you're wrapping, making you stop, because it's so fucking important you get your fucking cunting lentils.

Asking ridiculous questions - to which there can only be ridiculous answers. "What does this toilet roll look like? Can I open it and see?" "What does this fish taste like?" "is this sugar sweet?"



..in retrospect, some things were just me being stressed and defensive - but at the time it was very very real, and as I've just typed it out, I've gotten all the feeling back again. Rage.

I don't work in retail anymore.
(oneltrchardonnay, Mon 5 May 2008, 10:41, 5 replies)

12)
Obnoxious Drunks.

We know that drinking until your back teeth are floating in fighting fuel is a good old English past-time, and that Bank holidays by default seem to mean that you can spend from Friday afternoon to Tuesday morning either pissed or hungover, but please, learn when to stop / go home / shut the fuck up.

Pissing in shop fronts is not hard or clever (unless its a Rymans the Stationers) nor is running up and down the street shouting swearwords, abusive sexist shit at women, awful football chants (Terraces only please, where it belongs) throwing your kebab salad at passers-by, starting pointless fights at taxi ranks.

Its annoying, and depressing, and do you know why us sensible middle-aged people really really REALLY hate it?

Simple, we look at you idiots and think "Oh god I used to be like that, how shameful"

So, not only are you making yourselves look like the cunts you are, you are making us realise what cunts we were. stop it please!
(Halfy By light alone, Mon 5 May 2008, 10:36, Reply)

Shower
Living with your parents, and the questionable views they have on your right to privacy (rapping sharply once on your bedroom door and giving you approximately 0.47593 seconds before flinging it open, leaving you no time to conceal whatever naughty things you're up to) the shower is the only proper, real "me" time I have. I'm all relaxed, the hot water is pouring over me, drifting away in my thoughts.. ARGHPISSYMINGEFLAPS I yelp and bolt face first into the front glass wall of the shower as the water goes artic or volcanic.

WHY USE THE DOWNSTAIRS TAPS NOW? What could be SO important that you had to ruin my shower? Did you cut off a finger? Did you shit on your hands? "I had to wash the veg for tea" Fuckers. I spend about 10 minutes in the shower, can't it wait? "NO!"
The (admittedly nearly non existant) humour in this is that I did this to my dad, and he had a right go at me for ruining his shower. Twat.
(reducedfatLOLcat, Mon 5 May 2008, 10:15, 6 replies)

Laughing In Songs
Bloody hell, I hardly ever answer QOTWs, and yet this week I'm already on my third entry.

Right. Laughing In Songs. Few things make me instantly despise a song like the artist laughing in it. I'm not talking about including a laugh in the lyrics (e.g. that bit in 'Where Do You Go To My Lovely' when Peter Sarstedt sings "And you laugh, A-ha-ha", although that is chuffing awful too). I'm talking about the singer delivering a supposedly amusing/clever line and then giving themselves a little self-satisfied chuckle. Christ almighty, turn the Smug up to 11, why don't you?

Two examples:
1) Arrested Development - 'People Everyday'. "...and the loud bright colours that I wear" "BOO! Haha..."
2) Jennifer Lopez - Play. "Play my mother- song! Heheheh..."

Why does this grate on me so much? I honestly don't know. I suppose it's because it's only a few steps away from cockwands like Bradley Walsh practically pissing themselves at their own routines. Presumably they rehearsed this song a few times before they recorded it. Was their quip really so hilarious that it still causes them to laugh EVERY TIME?

Wankbags.
(costas, Mon 5 May 2008, 10:10, 3 replies)

Spimf
Now on ignore, but what made that person be such a complete fucknugget? And why did they think it was humourous to belittle, call people dykes etc?
Also- black kids that talk like they is from "the block", when in fact they are from the suburbs of London. Wembley being a fine example, the area round there is full of the baggy trousered fools with plasters on their faces (In honour of someone, usually in prison).
Amy Winehouse- a superb talent gone to waste, who was also fine looking when "normal". And who can't sing for toffee now, I can wail incomprehensible lyrics just as good as she can.
The chavs that play music on their mobile phones- use fucking earphones.
Parents who let their 9 year old girls dress like them, complete with short skirts and midriffs on show ( go to Asda any day of the week for a fine example, theres always one there). Let kids be kids, not some mini-me, and dress them appropriately, not go out half naked.
/rant.
( Duke Of Belmsford has got 99 records, but Jay-Z ain't one, Mon 5 May 2008, 10:04, 17 replies)

Pee Followups
Gents: You know when you go for number ones:
you wait patiently until you're sure you've finished, shake it a few times to rid your johnson of any last remaining sprinklets...
put it away... aaand....
ARGHH GET IT BACK OUT GET IT BACK OUT ARGG

Happens to me too often
(catbrain likes the hairy scratchings bestest, Mon 5 May 2008, 9:52, 4 replies)

People who refuse to be persuaded by reason
or accept that your greater knowledge of a subject means that your opinion counts for more.

These are the same people who will go "well that's just your opinion"

Yes it's my opinion, but I have spent the last 5 mins explaining why I've formulated that opinion based on logic and reason. All of your counter-arguments (usually very flimsy) have been shot down in flames. You've agreed that my reasoning is correct, you've sometimes even agreed with what I've said, you've offered nothing to counter that, so PLEASE accept that perhaps you should rethink YOUR opinion.

What you shouldn't do (unless you're trying to piss me off) is go "yeah well, that's just your opinion". Or worse "well i dunno, it's just what I believe", please rethink your assumptions.

This brings me onto the majority of Boris Johnson supporters that I've come across since the worst thing to happen to our fair capital since the Blitz.

I am happy to accept that there are Boris supporters out there who have well founded, rational, reasons for supporting him. I may not agree with you but at least you've put some effort in.

What bugs me is all you cretin's who support him blindly (made worse by the fact that I'm studying out of London so the majority aren't affected by it so don't even have a vague knowledge of what the mayor does, let alone the issues surrounding the election).

They're the ones who cheered when they heard he one and then refused to join me in a debate about the merits of him winning. If you care enough to cheer why don't you know the first thing about him? And just because he acts like a buffoon doesn't mean he's secretly a genius. Just because he says outragously offensive things, doesn't mean he's a crusader for the truth. What it usually comes down to is your daddy votes conservative and you've been too fucking lazy to create your own political views.

*Breathes deeply*

But then again, it's their opinion. Apparently that means it counts as much as mine despite a complete lack of knowledge of the area.

Length? Write a post about it being your pet peeve.
(Jezziah, Mon 5 May 2008, 9:22, 7 replies)

Shit Days
.
I fucking hate having a shit day. And today has been a doozy.

First disaster was writing a load of really, really complicated code. Got it passing the debugger and said

"Hurrah! This calls for a cup of tea!"


Went and made tea and came back to my laptop, to find my cat sitting on it and no sign of my PHP Designer Window, and no sign of my code. And before you ask, I hadn't saved it.

This did not put me in a good mood. And I really didn't feel like rewriting that code again so I thought I'd make some bread with the nice and shiny bread-maker that had just arrived. Unpacked the machine, read all of the instructions, put in all of the ingredients, set the program and turned it on. Then went back to my laptop to start work again thinking:

"In three and a half hours I'll have some lovely, fresh, crusty bread"

But what they didn't say in the instruction book is make sure you nail the fucking machine in place otherwise, during the kneading phase, it'll slowly edge it's way forward and then commit suicide by hurling itself onto the kitchen floor. One breadmaker, smashed beyond repair. One kitchen floor, covered in dough and flour.

Fucksocks. Ah well.

So then I thought I'd better take the cat to the vets for her booster jabs and to get her stitches out. So I got the RSPCA cardboard cat-box out, put it on the floor and then tried to catch the cat. It does not like that box so hid under the sofa. 20 minutes to catch the little bastard and force her into the cat box. Where she started meeping piteously.

So I looked up the address of the vets on Google, called them and made an appointment. Brill. It was about a 10 minute walk away so off I toddled carrying the cat in her box. I got as far as the very busy main road when Mrs Fucking Houdini managed to smash her way through the bottom of the box and leg it through the traffic. Fucking great. Heart in mouth I set off after the feline escape artist. She managed to get into a garden and then hid. 40 fucking minutes searching for the little twat before I caught her again and stuffed her back in the box. And off I set again only this time holding the bottom of the box closed with my hands.

Finally made it to the address from the web page. Vets? What fucking vet. This was a private house. And I didn't have the number of the vet or even the name of the bloody place. All I'd memorised was the address. This wasn't going to be my day. So I set back off home again. As I was almost home my phone rang. So I put down the box, got out my phone and answered it. It was the vets asking if I was coming in today or not as I was well past my appointment time.

I explained that I'd been to the address given on the bloody website, 69 LaLa Street and it wasn't a vet. The receptionist said:

"But we're *169* not 69..."

So said I'd be there and rang off and.....

The fucking cat burst through the box again and legged it into the distance. So off I set in hot pursuit. This time it found a car and hid underneath it. Could I get the fucker out? Could I buggery. Eventually some passing kids spotted my trouble and gave me a hand. One of them crawled under the car and herded the little bastard into my arms. Gratefully I gave them 10 dollars and headed back to the cat box with a wildly struggling cat. She was not happy!! So I stuffed the little shit back into the box and set off again. By now I was seriously considering whether I should skip the vet and head instead for the river and drown the git. But I headed for the vets and, this time, made it without any more incidents.

I eventually got into see the vet and explained what had happened. That the cat was Houdini reincarnated. He laughed and examined the box.

"Here's your trouble mate" he said "See these two flaps - they have to be up at the sides to stop her breaking out."

Now I was fucking sure that those two flaps *were* up at the sides when I started out but perhaps I was mistaken so I said nothing. The vet did what was needed and handed me the bill. 130 fucking dollars! Fuck me! But, I paid him and set off, cat in the properly-put-together-by-a-vet box and set off for home.

Ten yards. I got fucking ten yards before the little shit burst out of the box again. But this time I was ready for her and rugby tackled her. A creditable dive and a one handed splat. She was pinned to the road, legs akimbo. So I grabbed her and stuffed her back in the fucking box again and set off home. Again, I was holding the bottom of the box so she couldn't force her way out. So she gave up.

Instead, she poked her paw out of the airholes and gave me a damm good scratching before I could reposition myself. Again, the river was looking very tempting...

So that's been my day so far. Fucking shit. And tomorrow is going to be bad too as I'm going to have a hangover. A well deserved hangover.

I knew we should have gotten a dog...

Cheers

Edit. And to add insult to injury, the cats not speaking to me now.
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Mon 5 May 2008, 9:12, 10 replies)

Spleen venting time...
Car alarms.
Honestly, what's the fucking point of car alarms? Has anyone EVER on hearing a car alarm thought "Oh no, some miscreant is attempting to steal somebody's car. I must investigate and prevent the commission of this crime."? No they haven't. All everybody thinks is "Bloody car alarms, they make such a horrible noise don't they?"

People who say "aks" instead of "ask".
Why are so many people incapable of pronouncing this prefectly simple word - it looks nothing liks "aks". Just say the word "ass" and put a kicking k on the end. Simple.

People talking about "racialists".
Yes Jade Goody, I mean you. The word is racist, not racialist. Learn English.

Blatantly lying adverts.
Especially those for lipstick and mascara. Look closely at the bottom of the screen when they do the close up of the "after" shot of using the latest product and you'll see the words "enhanced in post production". So, what you're saying is that the shot of impossibly beautiful model with perfect lips/eyelashes isn't actually the result of using your product, it's been done on the computer. Gits.

Shampoo adverts I.
The ones that promise to nourish your hair and do fuck knows what else to it. Fact - hair cannot be nourished, it's dead. Only the root is alive. You can coat it in whatever gloop you want, but at the end of the day that expensive shampoo is just soap for your head.

Shampoo adverts II.
I don't know the name of the product, but it's the one with "light reflecting technology". Erm, hair already reflects light otherwise we wouldn't be able to see it.

February 23rd 2008.
The day my life lost all purpose. She knows why.
( JugglerJAF It's curtains for you.Lacy gently wafting curtains, Mon 5 May 2008, 9:11, 5 replies)

Non Drivers banging on about
not driving and how great it is to get the bus.Yep,I love sharing space with no marks and low lifes who smell.

Get a life you hippies .
( bane, Mon 5 May 2008, 9:08, 4 replies)

Oh god, do you have all day?
There are loads of things that irritate me, finally a forum where I can vent without people telling me to shutup (well people can, but B3TA asked, so I will vent.) I will stick with one issue for now.

1) Bad drivers - who fall into several categories:

a) Old people. Now, don't get me wrong, old people are great - most of them fought in the war etc etc. And there are some who are insane, like my grandfather who used to drive at 80 miles an hour even when he developed severe macular degeneration. On village roads. Unfortunately, most seem to turn into blithering, doddering fools when faced with their beloved Nissan Micra. Why do they drive so slowly? Surely if you don't feel confident/cannot see well enough to go at the speed limit, you really shouldn't be driving anymore? I had to take a mild sedative when holidaying in Wales recently, where in most parts there are just long, one lane A roads. Getting stuck behind a coffin dodger going at fucking 30 in a 60 is just so rage-inducing, made worse by the fact that, when in a luggage and people loaded 1.6 estate, it is very hard to get up the speed to overtake without smashing head on into oncoming traffic, Utter, utter bellends. Similarly, on suburban roads with speed humps, Mr and Mrs Old will choose a cruising speed of approximately 10 miles an hour, leaving me in spasms of rage at again being unable to properly overtake without taking the bottom off my car.

b) Women. I am a woman myself, and I am utterly, utterly ashamed by my kind. Especially school run mothers. Now, I have no problem with 4X4s, I'm not one of the environment brigade and I like the look of them. Sadly, most people who drive them seem utterly incompetent. School Run Mother will block the roads, scrape nearby parked cars and do a 38 point turn instead of a 3 point because they cannot judge the arse size of their car. They have "Baby on Board" stickers in their back windows, which just makes me more inclined to ram into the back of them for being such a cunt. Why does having a baby on board entitle you to drive like such a twat? Especially when precious Junior is protected by a massive steel cage? And why, if you can't fucking drive properly, do you take the biggest car in your arsenal the few metres to school? Why not take the second, smaller car you so obviously have?

c) People who don't know the width/length of their car. These people have grown in my irritation in the past few months. I have lost count of the amount of times that a lane of traffic, upon splitting into left and right lanes, has come to a complete standstill because a total and utter twat wanting to go right feels that they cannot squeeze their car through the FUCKING HUGE GAP between the cars wanting to go left and oncoming traffic. As a result the line of cars cannot move until the left lane starts to clear. Absolute fucking idiots. Also, when a road has narrowed slightly because there are parked cars on either/one side, the amount of fucktards that will wait for one side of traffic to go first before going themselves, even though there is room for BOTH WAYS TO MOVE AT THE SAME TIME. So when I decide "Fuck this, I'm going as well" the oncoming driver looks at me with utter horror before slamming on his/her brakes and tooting vigourously on the horn, before making a big show of spinning the wheel violently left as if this will save the car from being sideswiped by this crazy maniac in the black Vauxhall. Once I have safely passed their car with about 2 feet of space, I just want to pull over, knock on their window and put their face through the windscreen, drag them all over their car before screaming manically "YOU SEE THE TRAIL OF BLOOD? THAT'S WHERE YOUR CAR STARTS AND ENDS, AND THERE ARE THE SIDES!" Before cackling insanely and eating my own hands.

d) Chavs. They are cunts anyway for so many reasons, but their driving is just unbelievable. Going up peoples arses, angrily revving, the hideously loud RnB music. Upon pulling up at traffic lights I enjoy countering Mr Chav's latest Fiddy album with some even louder music of my own, something retro like Inspector Gadget or metal like Dragonforce. Their utter dismay at realising that my sound system is louder than theirs puts them into a dark chavvy rage, and they begin revving loudly, challenging me to a race off when the lights go green. They forget of course that they are driving a 1 litre Nova, which is packed with their squawking girlfriend and various illegitimate chavlings, and I am sitting pretty in a small but perfectly formed Inspector Gadget mobile with a 1.4 sports engine. Not that impressive, but impressive enough. Even funnier when they stall. And when I tip off the DVLA that their tax has expired.


Well, my fingers are hurting from all the typing now, but my rage has subsided. I thank you all for listening.
(posage As I turned the corner I felt muscular and compact, Mon 5 May 2008, 8:54, 3 replies)

The money shot
Porn that doesnt deliver what it promises.

When you pick up a "specialist" dvd you have certain expectations based on the cover

GODDAMMIT i want to see the chinese midget fellate the pre-op tranny NOW. As it implies on the cover.
Apparently

So i have been told by err err A workmate
Yeah a um workmate thats right......
(welgar, Mon 5 May 2008, 8:49, Reply)

In no particular order
When the toilet roll has been fitted so the sheet appears behind the roll instead of over the front like a waterfall.

Edith Bowman who, for example, failed to pronounce Keighley correctly the other day.
Actually, I suppose Radio One almost in its entirity. Maybe I'm just too much of a TOG.

The fact that if your dog goes stray and gets up to mischief you get punished, but if your kids prowl the streets and cause havoc no one seems to get punished.
(lord nose, Mon 5 May 2008, 8:47, Reply)

people who forward
'urgent' emails which aren't true. Usually I can find that it's not true in about two minutes of checking on snopes.com.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 5 May 2008, 8:45, 1 reply)

my dear friend
who insists on asking how my new relationship is going.

quite terribly, actually. i may love her to bits, and i may be a girl but i have a man-sized fear of commitment, and it's all i can do to stop me from bolting out the door and into the arms of some casual sex.
yep.
(charlottebronte stalking through the moors, Mon 5 May 2008, 8:39, 1 reply)

A real pet peeve
Those pretensious tosspots with there trendy dogs.

" I have a pedigree bion-labra-schn-oodle-terrier"
No you fucking dont there is NO such thing . Its not a recognised breed .
What you have is a mutt or a mongrel.

Dont try to tell me otherwise its just a bloody mixed breed dog.
(welgar, Mon 5 May 2008, 8:23, Reply)

Ethnic Cleansing
.
Doesn't that just roll off the tongue?

"Ethnic Cleansing"

It sounds like a New Age body treatment.

"I'm just off to the Reki Master for a spot of Ethnic Cleansing love. Be back in an hour"

Why not call it what it is. Racially motivated murder or, as it used to be known, Genocide.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Mon 5 May 2008, 5:52, 1 reply)

Syrupy Emails
Sorry if it’s already been mentioned, but I really despise receiving syrupy emails, you know the type. The ten roses to cheer you up on a Monday morning because you are apparently a “special” person. One is expected to click through a series of rose photos, each with a sentimental message of love, friendship or whatever. It usually finishes by indicating the message must not be kept, but sent on to two people for your dream to come true within the year, to five people to come true within three months and fifteen people to come true today. Geezarse, what a total crock! People who perpetuate this shit are cretins of the highest order.
(Cogitator, Mon 5 May 2008, 5:12, Reply)