moon
Well-Known Member
BBC aren't worried
They are getting the over 75s to pay for their salaries
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Sky considering putting highlights on YouTube
- Thread starter quiet_riot
- Start date
They are getting the over 75s to pay for their salaries
MotD is now little more than a rags propaganda show, with more than a sprinkling of dipper adulation on top.
It's been on its last legs for the past 30 years: it is tired, formulaic, and Lineker and his chums couldn't be more irritating if they tried.
On top of that they have Jonathan 'Squeak' Pearce screaming hysterically if a player so much as takes a throw in, and those God-forsaken bloody women commentators and their high-pitched screeching...FFS! Go away - a plague upon the lot of you!
And as for that vast mountain of lard, Garth Crooks (arguably the single most pretentious çunt on tv, and that accolade takes some beating, considering the wealth of competition), why can't that bloated, self-obsessed twat just waddle of into the sunset and never appear on British tv again?
He sits there like a fucking creosote-painted Buddha, all sweaty and shiny under the studio lights, desperately trying to come across as someone who can quote Descartè with the rest of the intellectual heavyweights the world over, when all he's doing is interviewing fucking Ian Holloway, or some such nonentity.
Thoughtfully cradling one of his 26 chins, and furrowing his brow in a feeble attempt at looking like a wealthy, cool, hip, streetwise university student, 'digging the sounds' at a dimly lit trad-jazz concert somewhere in Soho, while some stick thin coke-addled starlet is gorging herself on his flaccid member, trying in vain to spark a bit of life into his pitiful little manhood but failing miserably...
Fuck it! I've gone on too long, as ever.
That is fucking mint! Especially the Garth Crooks character assassination!
Gary Lineker doesn't feel threatened:
Love to get rid of that smug bar steward
OutstandingMotD is now little more than a rags propaganda show, with more than a sprinkling of dipper adulation on top.
It's been on its last legs for the past 30 years: it is tired, formulaic, and Lineker and his chums couldn't be more irritating if they tried.
On top of that they have Jonathan 'Squeak' Pearce screaming hysterically if a player so much as takes a throw in, and those God-forsaken bloody women commentators and their high-pitched screeching...FFS! Go away - a plague upon the lot of you!
And as for that vast mountain of lard, Garth Crooks (arguably the single most pretentious çunt on tv, and that accolade takes some beating, considering the wealth of competition), why can't that bloated, self-obsessed twat just waddle of into the sunset and never appear on British tv again?
He sits there like a fucking creosote-painted Buddha, all sweaty and shiny under the studio lights, desperately trying to come across as someone who can quote Descartè with the rest of the intellectual heavyweights the world over, when all he's doing is interviewing fucking Ian Holloway, or some such nonentity.
Thoughtfully cradling one of his 26 chins, and furrowing his brow in a feeble attempt at looking like a wealthy, cool, hip, streetwise university student, 'digging the sounds' at a dimly lit trad-jazz concert somewhere in Soho, while some stick thin coke-addled starlet is gorging herself on his flaccid member, trying in vain to spark a bit of life into his pitiful little manhood but failing miserably...
Fuck it! I've gone on too long, as ever.
Sofa City Sussex
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 20 Jul 2017
- Messages
- 45
MotD is now little more than a rags propaganda show, with more than a sprinkling of dipper adulation on top.
It's been on its last legs for the past 30 years: it is tired, formulaic, and Lineker and his chums couldn't be more irritating if they tried.
On top of that they have Jonathan 'Squeak' Pearce screaming hysterically if a player so much as takes a throw in, and those God-forsaken bloody women commentators and their high-pitched screeching...FFS! Go away - a plague upon the lot of you!
And as for that vast mountain of lard, Garth Crooks (arguably the single most pretentious çunt on tv, and that accolade takes some beating, considering the wealth of competition), why can't that bloated, self-obsessed twat just waddle of into the sunset and never appear on British tv again?
He sits there like a fucking creosote-painted Buddha, all sweaty and shiny under the studio lights, desperately trying to come across as someone who can quote Descartè with the rest of the intellectual heavyweights the world over, when all he's doing is interviewing fucking Ian Holloway, or some such nonentity.
Thoughtfully cradling one of his 26 chins, and furrowing his brow in a feeble attempt at looking like a wealthy, cool, hip, streetwise university student, 'digging the sounds' at a dimly lit trad-jazz concert somewhere in Soho, while some stick thin coke-addled starlet is gorging herself on his flaccid member, trying in vain to spark a bit of life into his pitiful little manhood but failing miserably...
Fuck it! I've gone on too long, as ever.
You carry on as long as you like-cheered my afternoon up
Qualifies for rant of the yearMotD is now little more than a rags propaganda show, with more than a sprinkling of dipper adulation on top.
It's been on its last legs for the past 30 years: it is tired, formulaic, and Lineker and his chums couldn't be more irritating if they tried.
On top of that they have Jonathan 'Squeak' Pearce screaming hysterically if a player so much as takes a throw in, and those God-forsaken bloody women commentators and their high-pitched screeching...FFS! Go away - a plague upon the lot of you!
And as for that vast mountain of lard, Garth Crooks (arguably the single most pretentious çunt on tv, and that accolade takes some beating, considering the wealth of competition), why can't that bloated, self-obsessed twat just waddle of into the sunset and never appear on British tv again?
He sits there like a fucking creosote-painted Buddha, all sweaty and shiny under the studio lights, desperately trying to come across as someone who can quote Descartè with the rest of the intellectual heavyweights the world over, when all he's doing is interviewing fucking Ian Holloway, or some such nonentity.
Thoughtfully cradling one of his 26 chins, and furrowing his brow in a feeble attempt at looking like a wealthy, cool, hip, streetwise university student, 'digging the sounds' at a dimly lit trad-jazz concert somewhere in Soho, while some stick thin coke-addled starlet is gorging herself on his flaccid member, trying in vain to spark a bit of life into his pitiful little manhood but failing miserably...
Fuck it! I've gone on too long, as ever.
I think the new one is called ' Rag Cock'.Tweeted from his war bunker where he’s furiously concocting new weird flavours of crisps.
prestonibbo_mcfc
Well-Known Member
I think the new one is called ' Rag Cock'.
and crabs. You have to get the crunch from somewhere.
jimharri
Moderator
I'd imagine that, after the past few "post GPC" years, there'd be a salty tang to that particular snack!I think the new one is called ' Rag Cock'.