THE BRITISH THREAD

spendius wrote:

The problem is Steve that all Mathos does is take the rhetorical device known as "the assertion" into higher spheres than such simple things as "tedious" and "pompous" and the like. On that score he is deserving of recognition although I fear he is in need of more practice on the finer points of insulting invective. He is also a boxer or an ex-boxer and he may well be suffering from the effects. All boxers are assertive and aggressive.

He is against the war and is thus not entirely without virtue I think you will admit.

I have gathered from a few things he has said that he is a city person and the blurted assertion is a common mode of discourse in cities perhaps due to the general cacophony and continuous hullabaloo with which city people are assailed throughout the day and night.

Listen you, you bloody parrot faced wazzock, if you start getting cocky I'll rip every word you print into a thousand pieces and bring them down on your bloody big, over-read, self opinionated, bombastic, bellicose skull like a mighty oak tree.

You sound like a bloody lake of hungry ducks, quacking every time somebody comes into view or the fox appears. Well let me make it very plain to you Yorkie, you pathetic snotty nosed, prick manipulating perverted sot, that your treading on vary thin ice.

The other jerk, spits **** from page to page from his government office
because his phucking wage packet will be there regardless. He had received no insults from me, and when he started with his chirpy little **** stirring remarks, he got whacked. I'd left it alone, he came back on board today like a ruptured crab on a pebbly beach, and he can lick his wounds, have another rant or apologise, I couldn't give two shakes of an Asian elephants prick (and they are big) which avenue he goes down.

I've heard hens fart before like you and him together, so thats another fine mess you got yourself in oink!

Hi Pete, evening folks, it was interesting reading until I discovered Lord S for B's meanderings.

LORD **** FOR BRAINS

I have had an extremely hard and difficult day, out very early this morning and returned home some thirty minutes since, only to be greeted by your masochism like a lost poussin twittering to an orchestra playing The Bhomeian Rhapsody.

It's possible, the midwife could be responsible: Not being able to determine the real you: You, were discarded into the nearest sluice leaving me having to resort to script conversation with a mature piece of after-birth.

Your cumbersome, somewhat irksome attitude enlikens you to a riotous parvenue with limited knowledge and even less common sense.

I note your still fiddling my tax contributions as well,! Typical.

In the confines of my mentioning your lack of spunk, I was of course refering to your inherent quality of character and temperament.
In short, I was calling you a gutless, cockney, ball-less, yellow bellied runt, but I held back from the expletives so as not to offend any of the members of a nervous disposition or of young and tender years.

I most certainly would never have lowered myself to discussion regarding your sperm count, which would no doubt have great difficulty in siring a handful of frog spawn.

In fact, you might just have a fanny wedged between your thighs, but I'm not in the least curious, I simply take it as read.

Notwithstanding your mythomania, I am somewhat concerned that any attempt by yourself to prove different would make for a very amusing topic. I will therefore, perhaps later this evening commence a thread amongst these European pages, a thread to determine how Lord **** for Brains is viewed in general. After all, they can't all think of you as a first rate plonker. Or can they?

How would you like to start, Mavis?

The realism towards a pragmatic, practical and material way of life is obviously lost in the outer spheres of your ever expandable search for recognition.

Forget it!

You never made first base.


Now, I could sit here and give thought to my reply: As I have previously done, but only ever with Spendi and Aidan, two worthy opponents at one stage of their miserable existence, but like the senate of The Roman Empire, their spirit and defences have long since been reduced to the sands of time. Blown away across a misty, stormy ocean of also rans.

On a strictly personal basis, were you to be handy to grab, I would have no hesitation in ramming a stout brush steele up your piley arse, and renaming you Lord Lollipop.

That is an excellent title, you could make poetry and songs from that.

You could of course apologise for your attack on me, which, although petty in substance, was carried out in a vile and most venomous manner.

Considering the possibility that you could see common sense and make apologies, I will not deride you at all for the present.

The ball Lord **** for Brains has been lobbed firmly into your court. Be careful how you serve.

So mote it be.

If you boys take some viagra and stop wasting time seeing who can piss highest up the wall...

We might make 3000 posts tonight!

x

Takes me back to the summer of '76, I wore a green combat jacket and had multi-coloured hair with one long red plait at the back (complete with bead) smoked a lot of weed and protested against Pershing, and considered joining The Solcialist Worker Party.

This thread needs a rename. LOL

A 'pile of bricks' won the Turner Prize...

hey that's pretty good even if I do say so myself

spendius wrote:

The problem is Steve that all Mathos does is take the rhetorical device known as "the assertion" into higher spheres than such simple things as "tedious" and "pompous" and the like. On that score he is deserving of recognition although I fear he is in need of more practice on the finer points of insulting invective. He is also a boxer or an ex-boxer and he may well be suffering from the effects. All boxers are assertive and aggressive.

He is against the war and is thus not entirely without virtue I think you will admit.

I have gathered from a few things he has said that he is a city person and the blurted assertion is a common mode of discourse in cities perhaps due to the general cacophony and continuous hullabaloo with which city people are assailed throughout the day and night.

Listen you, you bloody parrot faced wazzock, if you start getting cocky I'll rip every word you print into a thousand pieces and bring them down on your bloody big, over-read, self opinionated, bombastic, bellicose skull like a mighty oak tree.

You sound like a bloody lake of hungry ducks, quacking every time somebody comes into view or the fox appears. Well let me make it very plain to you Yorkie, you pathetic snotty nosed, prick manipulating perverted sot, that your treading on vary thin ice.

The other jerk, spits **** from page to page from his government office
because his phucking wage packet will be there regardless. He had received no insults from me, and when he started with his chirpy little **** stirring remarks, he got whacked. I'd left it alone, he came back on board today like a ruptured crab on a pebbly beach, and he can lick his wounds, have another rant or apologise, I couldn't give two shakes of an Asian elephants prick (and they are big) which avenue he goes down.

I've heard hens fart before like you and him together, so thats another fine mess you got yourself in oink!