Feckless Twonks!

Last week's Popbitch highlighted a review of Pete Doherty's writings on Amazon, which I laughed at so hard I've forgotten all but the clumsy gist of it, which basically was that Pete Doherty is a "tossclump" and his poetry "adolescent dribblings". As insults go, it was glorious. The only problem I have with Popbitch's reference is that its writer was condemned to anonymity when he/she should have been carted shoulder-high in a wild parade through their hometown and showered with busty virgins and paper money. The art of the insult seems pretty close to suffocated in these politically correct times, to the extent where I couldn't call anyone "Big Ears" yesterday for fear of upsetting them, as you probably won't recall.

"Tossclump", though. Isn't it good? It doesn't bring to mind all that much except, maybe, a clump of tossy matter, which isn't the most appealing image ever, not even if you're Jordan. And there is that satisfying abrupt end to the sound... tossssssclump! Aurally, it sounds like the name of one of Rene's German customers in Alo Alo. I'm quite enamored of it. It may become my new favourite insult, perhaps bringing an end to the reign of Titmachine, Mongoloid and the all-empowering Nimrod. I've always had a soft spot for Plike. Gobshite will never go out of fashion. But obviously, none of these are up to standard anymore. Not even my personal, personal best, which I only take out of storage and dust off when the moronic actions of those around me really call for it: Count Knobula. Not good enough. Not inventive enough. I must reach into that supposedly bottomless pit of righteous anger The Swearing Gent keeps telling me I'm in danger of drowning in, and get artistic with the bile. I'll report back when my victims are crying with wonder and respect as well as misery.

For more wonderfully inventive character assassinations, you should check out thesuperficial.com, which beats even Go Fug Yourself for demented rage honed by a terrifying single-mindedness. Other than that, check out recent Australian Prime Ministers. I don't remember which of them it was, but according to Bill Bryson one of them was famed for labelling his political rivals "perfumed gigolos" and the like. I'm sure that could beat anything Bertie Ahern could come out with. We know creativity doesn't run in his family.

Or, y'know, check the comments. I'm sure my readers will take great pleasure in screeching ill-mannered but inspired twaddle at me.