Tuesday, 1 December 2015

The Wicked Wit of Insults

My eyes wandered today to the bookshelves with neatly arranged volumes; this has a soothing effect on my ever-restless soul. And they met no other but a rather inconspicuous, green-ish book entitled "The Wicked Wit of Insults" completed by Maria Leach. I bought it after splitting up with one bastard. They say you must make one final mistake before you get married. He was mine. 



Anyway, since I am in a somewhat frivolous mood today, with that colourful inspiration to my right, I decided to offer you a few of my own insults, inspired by life. Who knows, you might just find them useful, since it is only Tuesday. Here's how you can address your co-workers, even if it's just in the privacy of your own head (strongly recommended):

1. You half-arsed, gazeeboed monkey with a crumpled page three from "The Sun" instead of a brain!




2. My recycling bin has less plastic inside than your boobs!




3. You son of a tomato and squirrel!




4. A bat with elephant feet, teeth of a mouse, tongue of a frog, scent of a skunk and a lady Gaga's wig. That's how you would look like after a positive make-over. 




5. I know cabbages that have more taste than you.




6. Your voice is like screeching tyres on a wet tarmac whilst going over a bunch of cockroaches fitted with fog horns. 




7. I would hit you with a shovel, but I am afraid to damage it.




8. You don't need a therapist; what you need is a brain enema and three sessions in the washer-dryer. 




9. Since you've grown a mustache and a beard, you look like an ass turned to the side. 




10. No wonder you know so much about this. With all that empty space under your skull you needed to stuff something inside. 




Happy December, everyone!

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