The dishwasher is the most coddled appliance. You have to do its job before it can do its job.

Only way. Risotto is all instinct and impaired judgment.

Me and risotto, bud, me and risotto. It gets half a glass of wine, but only after I get half a bottle.

We live, we survive, we learn.

Mayflies, gas station sushi, petrol station doughnuts. What can I say?

"Yes. I did it. And given the opportunity, I'll do it again."

I know I'm slightly odd, but for me, the smell of bleach is up there with cut grass.

A non-functioning alcoholic at that.

1) It can, if when he pulls a Nixon, Marine One is blown out of the sky.
2) The UAE won't accept him any more. Best he can hope for is a dacha just outside Vladivostok.
3) Won't just be piss. Count on it.

I hope this happens, because it would be solid grounds for impeaching Vance.

Numbers. #SixBankruptcies.

Gratifying to see that all these ghostbastards are yucking it up in either Purgatory or Hell.

Absolutely.

Trump has "a complicated relationship" with truth, and reality. And honesty. He's a fucking thief and a fucking liar.

I think doing it his fucking way is what has caused a massive amount of shit. I wouldn't be boasting about it. Then again, I'm not a sociopathic, kleptomaniac paedophile.

I'm going to charitably assume that Daniel Harris of the Guardian wasn't around in April 1989.

Daniel Harris continuing with his stream of seasonal, Mersey-based, utter tone-deafness.

Odd that a "stable genius", who's a vehement teetotaller, would surround himself with so many erratic drunks.

Christ, imagine trying to live inside that head. Imagine trying to live in skin that thin. Imagine seeing the world through those fucking eyes. I almost feel sorry for him.
Almost.
String the fucker up.

On a hot summer's day sixty years ago, someone (no names, no packdrill) thought it would be a faantastic idea to throw this thing into the pavement so it exploded like an malodiferous grenade. To this day, I sometimes wonder how many of us contracted toxicara that day.

Too early in the day for Donnie.

"It's quarter to three,
There's no one in the bar here,
Except you and me..." 🎵

Sometimes only EC&B will do.

They're playing him like an accordion, and beating him like a a gong.

For a "stable genius" and vehement teetotaller, Donnie sure does employ an awful* lot of erratic, stupid drunks.

*I use the word advisedly.

"And today's new word is... Grogblossom."

Yeh, you can imagine how many hours of exasperated rehearsal went into that.

Is this the one with Connor McGregor doing the worst* Irish accent in the history of cinema?

*Yes, worse than Tom and Nicole. Combined.