This
week: Metaphors
You are about as funny as a millipede whore with athletes foot who had to give up the oldest profession because the punters got fed up with waiting for her to finish putting on thigh length leather boots. You really take the biscuit! Gary Baldy
Dr F. I’ve heard of ‘curbcrawling’ but this takes the piss.
I have aesthetic unflattering issues about my unfortunate looking girlfriend that demands a homemade metaphor. ‘She is so ugly a reversing garbage truck warning is the only chat-up line she has ever heard’. Des Kart
Dr F. There is no shame in that. Why, only the other day I had sex with an underage dumpster. It was the best. I found myself throwing myself into it.
If I was Tesco value beef left outside on a hot day, would you be my recurring dysentry? Enya Dreems
Dr F. Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather let Edwina Currie eat scrambled eggs out of my navel while exploring her meringue swirl. If you want to see if salmonella can culture more than feelings of love you can’t beat eggs. Sorry. I forgot you can beat eggs. You just can’t beat your wife….. or a good wank as it happens.
My body looks like it has been assembled by a drunken mechanic from Cork. I have tried all kinds of implants and it's cost me a fortune to no real lasting beneficial effect. I think plastic surgery is a silly con. Ian Astate
Dr F: I must say you walked into my surgery with a peculiar gait. It was just the gazebo we couldn’t get through the door. You have symptoms of a neurological disorder which makes you look like you have borrowed somebody else’s body and not managed to master the instructions that came with it.. called “Clumsyfeckeritis”. It’s a hand and eye coordination malady associated with those bastards in supermarkets that stop dead for no apparent reason in front of you and put their finger to their lip realizing that they do not even have the navigational skills of an un-dug potato or, come to that, ringworm on acid.
Or those people who cannot shop without ‘back-up’. How did we manage to buy a can of beans in 1978 without phoning home to choose which brand we should select? Is it that challenging? I went to the checkout at Waitrose and asked the girl for a flight to Turkey.
She said, “We don’t sell flights. You want to go to a holiday shop.”
I replied , “I already have but Thomson Cook had run out of pitted olives.”
It’s hot and I’m sweating like a Geordie at a maths test. Jess Ganninyam
Dr F: That's unkind and discriminatory. It doesn’t have to be that hot at all.
I’m as happy as a housewife who found Osama Bin Laden in her broom closet. Who needs Cillit bang? Sarah Bomsqwod
Dr F: I agree. Stains on society are hard to remove and Iraqis cannot be blamed for trouser indiscretions during this conflict just because of the Shiites. If you ever saw Osama in that cupboard, give him a chance to do the decent thing. Try to keep him talking. Call 999 secretly and offer him a cup of tea and a scone and strike up conversation with a question like, “How close did you get to capture before?”
If he says it was the goat that cornered him in the cave he must be lying.
I would like to mention that I’m that old I remember when Hitler was just a private. I'm also as lazy as a pie taster in Doncaster who made a spoon long enough to reach the pie he had to taste in Worksop without even getting out of bed. Mind you, if I see Uri Geller trying to bend my 25 mile long huge spoon I will force feed him 30 Viagra and see if he can bend that bastard too. Billy Idle
Dr F. Don’t mock a man who invented the banana and rainbows. Not forgetting the ‘Distort’ facility in Photoshop and helping very little with bending half the London Met. No one can bend it like Uri. Just ask Beckham. He’s the biggest bender there is. He even invented the ‘magic bullet’ when JFK was assassinated and, among other things, pubic hair. Although, that was by accident when he was off sick. Nobody in their right mind can take such bendy growth in stupid places seriously or assume it a prudent career choice for Uri. I fooled him once and told him when I met him in London to try his powers on a nine bob note. He counted to three, farted, followed through, and then Big Ben fell on the twat.
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