whidden thread split experiment

Flamers' Ward Forum

Don't mind me, this thread will be gone in about 20 minutes or less.



Oops, not a mod in here, can't delete it.


Hey, it's the flamers ward, so all's I have to do is talk some trash and call it good.


***Whidden thinks hard***

***Whidden draws a big fat blank***

***Whidden cops out and uses Shakespearian insult generator***


Mahesh, Thou clouted clay-brained bum-bailey, Me tires of thy gleeking flap-mouthed foot-licking, Thou mewling idle-headed lewdster!

Why am I always the first choice for insults?

Whidden, you pea-brained, good-for-nothing Star Wars junkie Matrix maniac rat b******, you suck man!!! Take your pewter figurines and shove them up your you-know-where.

M.

All the reasons are good.

And yes, I do suck.

































































Popsicles.

M.

Mahesh,
Thou gleeking fat-kidneyed minnow,
Thou loggerheaded hasty-witted harpy,
Thou froward tickle-brained bugbear,
Thou dost indeed sucketh,
Thou bawdy milk-livered lout!

My kidneys are not fat!!!

Whidden, you are chubby. I suggest Sandy June put you on a diet.

M.

Your nephron's are sub standard, that is why your water, electrolytes, waste products and other substances that are excreted in the urine, tell any good doctor with a test kit that your Kidneys are fat and lackadaisical.

My kidneys are in excellent condition, thou qualling earth-vexing minnow!

M.

You speak unskilfully: or, if your knowledge be more, it is much darkened in your malice.

What a drunken knave was the sea to cast thee in our way!

You, minion, are too saucy.

Sense sure you have, else could you not have motion; but sure that sense is apoplex'd.

Thy brain is as dry as the remainder biscuit after a voyage.

Whidden my friend, thou art spacious in the possesion of dirt. Thou art as tedious as a tired horse, a railing wife, Worse than a smoky house, thou villainous common-kissing boar-pig!

M.

Away, you bottle-ale rascal, you filthy bung, away!

You starvelling, you eel-skin, you dried neat's-tongue, you bull's-pizzle, you stock-fish--O for breath to utter what is like thee!-you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck!

Thee cannot cast me away, thou unmuzzled hell-hated currish motley-minded canker-blossom whey-face!

M.

I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you moldy rogue, away!

Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips grow foul.

How now, wool-sack, what mutter you?

Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey Iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years?

Wow, Whidden.

How well you curse in old english. M. is sure getting a lesson. But he's dropping some choice insults too.

This has been quite a romp, and I'm loving it. I hope the audience for this thread is growing. Keep at it boys.

Everyone else: FIGHT!!! FIGHT!!!

You'll tickle my catastrophe!? Have at it then, curmudgeon! Thou surly beetle-headed miscreant!

Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man!

Thou art violently carried away from grace, sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, a poor unminded outlaw sneaking home!

Thou art a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of not one good quality.

Thou knave! Thou hideous, wretched cur! If thy countenance wert regarded as like the relievings of a scraggly mongrel, it would be your greatest compliment! (That one's from me! )

I throw thy name against the bruising stones. Thou art a very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow.

Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence, that can yet do thee office? Me doubts, me doubts!

Were I like thee I'd throw away myself.

Oh, Whidden, thou most prolific, hell-spawned, heart-withering demon of the basest order!

Your virtuosity breeds mites, much like a cheese, thou sniveling gnat! Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade in which thou take'st great pride! Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead!

What trick, what device, what starting-hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparent shame? Sell your face for five pence and 'tis dear!

Thine sole name blisters my tongue, thou witless, vexing crow! Get thee to a nunnery, but quick, lest thine utmost demons bust free and consume the lot of us!

Nom de Dieu de putain de bordel de merde de saloperies de connards d'enculés de ta mère.

It is hard to beat that, isn't it? Of course, it isn't directed at either of you.

M.

Thou rump-fed ronyon! Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
thou lily-liver'd boy.

You are a fishmonger, you clouted half-faced skainsmate!

Away thou fawning swag-bellied harpy cockered fat-kidneyed canker-blossom sheep-biting pigeon-egg spongy base-court boar-pig puny guts-griping apple-john ruttish weather-bitten pumpion!

M.

M, thou art fouler than the sludge from a sewer. Thou pribbling urchin-snouted nut-hook! I bite my thumb at you!

Thou frothy base-court clack-dish dissembling guts-griping pignut surly rough-hewn bladder mewling flap-mouthed haggard! Thee cannot match my insulting skills. Thou shall submit, or thee shall be defeated.

M.

'Submit or be defeated'? Surely you jest, for thee cannot be serious.

Thou art nothing more than a fawning earth-vexing dewberry. A fobbing elf-skinned flax-wench. Truly thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side. Thine breath stinks with eating toasted cheese.

Whidden has a small thingy.

BOO-YAH

beat dat, foo

Whidden, if the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to make the diseases.

Thou art as fat as butter and ugly without silliness.

Thou hath not so much brain as ear wax. Thou art nothing but a lumpish onion-eyed pigeon-egg!

Be put in a cauldron of lead and usurer's grease, amongst a whole million of cutpurses, and there boil like a gammon of bacon that will never be enough! Thine horrid image doth unfix my hair.

Thou art the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth. Idol of idiot-worshippers! Thou clouted lily-livered harpy!

Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold.

(Hey, I just found this neat long insult in MacBeth. It begins with a response and builds from there, though, so could someone do me a favor and say, "We are men, my liege"?)

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v460/Whidden/bane.jpg


We are men, my liege?

Aye, in the catalogue ye go for men; as hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, shoughs, water-rugs and demi-wolves are clept all by the name of dogs: the valued file distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, the housekeeper, the hunter, every one according to the gift which bountenous nature hath in him closed; whereby he does receive particular addition. From the bill that writes them all alike: and so of men. Now, if you have a station in the file, not i' the worst rank of manhood.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v460/Whidden/bane.jpg

well, that's just harsh.



Me must admit, it ist difficult to thinketh I art a man mine leige, encased in this rotting piece of meat. The stink of it filling every breath, a suffocating cloud thy can't escape.

***spits blood***

Disgusting! Look at how pathetically fragile it is. Nothing this weak is meant to survive.


There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune.

Whidden, thou art a clouted clay-brained bum-bailey. A loggerheaded half-faced gudgeon! May the worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul.

A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen as you are toss'd with. Thou clay-brained guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou whoreson obscene greasy tallow-catch!

Thou art a flesh monger, a fool, and a coward.

You all stink like ca-ca.

Sorry I had to unleash the big gun there.

-HECK!

You're all big doodoo heads. so there.

Y'all smoke rope.*
























*also a Heckism.

If you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. You are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie.

I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you moldy rogue, away! Thou reeky tickle-brained scut! Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long.

Tinkerty tonk, and I mean it to sting. (Not Shakespearean, I know, but Wodehouse is a cool dead guy, too)

Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!

I...I WANT to be mean, but I can't say something rude to Old Ben! Darn your picture, Whidden!

I...I WANT to be mean, but I can't say something rude to Old Ben! Darn your picture, Whidden!

Ha! I defeated your Jedi mind trick by taping a piece of paper over that half of the computer!

Thou beslubbering plume-plucked foot-licker! Were I like thee I'd throw away myself.

Thou sanguine coward, thou bed-presser, thou horseback-breaker, thou huge hill of flesh! In the world's wide mouth live scandaliz'd and foully spoken of.

In civility thou seem'st so empty.

Thou bloodier villain than terms can give thee out! Hence, horrible villain, or I'll spurn thine eyes like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head, thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd' in brine, smarting in lingering pickle.

Gosh, you're right. Judging by what I just wrote, I do seem to be lacking some civility

Don't worry, twas not my dog I kicked, but a violent stray.


http://www.inreview.com/attachment.php?s=&postid=567384

Dave you wicked man you! Drinking and using a wheel barrow. You drunken wheel barrow driver you! (Is that enough to get called a wench? )

Well, blessed wench, this thread but requires thine infamously foul presence, and the title is happily bestowed upon thee. Away, putrid fuscia. For as the delicate and lovely Pippen so eloquently expressed in a prior utterance, "Thou stinketh!"

There. The gauntlet lies before thee. As it pleases you, take crooked aim and injure thyself with a poorly crafted retort! (How's my old english coming along?...)

Sierradaddy thou foul meager moderator of no renoun. How dare thee defile the fine breath of Fuscia! You scurvy cur. I forgive ye yet, for you did call me wench.

Think not of it, for the sinful pleasure was mine alone. Wench.

And renoun doth approach me yet... Methinks......

Look out Dave. SD is pretty darn smooth.

Thank you... I work out some...

I love it. Two guys to call me a wench or a tart. Yes, I am a strange one, but hey someone has to be.

When did Sherry start serving ratsbane? Is it delicious?

Whidden, thou old codger, away thou filthy rascal! I condemn thy severly misconcepted and malicious heart.

M.

Ratsbane is quite tasty if prepared with the proper spices.

http://bestsmileys.com/eating1/2.gif

Ah how this wench missed her ill mannered friends- only in this thread are they ill mannered.

Ratsbane? Did I feed it to the cat?

Ratsbane is rat poison!

Dont give it to kitty. Give the kitty catnip.

Give Mahesh the rat poison!

Cause he is a fobbing ill-nurtured hugger-mugger!

Sierradaddy, thou hath more hair than wit and more faults than hairs. Thou wimpled dizzy-eyed popinjay!

Mahesh, your bum is the greatest thing about you; so that in the beastliest sense, you are Pompey the Great. Thou art a fusty nut with no kernel!

Whidden, thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, and howl'st to find it. With luck you shalt choke on the vomit like one of Spinal Tap's drummers. I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death.

Fuscia, you shall stifle in your own report, and smell of calumny. You should be a woman, and yet your beard forbids me to interpret that you are so.

shakespeare sucks

Dekka winneth.

Dekka sucketh.

M.

Pippin your futile attempts to spread rumors of me having a beard have fallen on deaf ears. The manly men in thisith forum know of my lovliness, and your foul mannered insults will not mar the legend of Fuscia.

I'm putting that in my sig as 'quote of the week'.



-HECK!

Mock not the Fuscia. For she is on prescription drugith for pain in the head.

Seriously, I had a shot for pain yesterday. That was the best I could come up with under the circumstance.

Fuscia, thou beard might fall on deaf ears, but that is so since thy ears are full of wax, and your beastly appearance mars an otherwise beautiful scene. Away! Begone! Thou shalt not leave any more ear wax on this land!

M.

p.s. What you said was indeed hilarious. And I hope your pain reduces soon.

Beastly appearance? Be gone you foul mouthed ill sighted man! A pox on your house and a tiny yipping dog on your lawn.

Fuscia, hast thou never an eye in thy head? Your face is as a book, where men may read strange matters. I make as good use of thine face as many a man doth of a death's-head, or a momento mori. A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen as you are toss'd with. Thou fobbing motley-minded malt-worm.


Hey, Fuscia, if you want to be called a wench you should visit my school some time. We have a guy who will call you a wench and order you to get into the kitchen and bake him a pie worthy of Mordor. Really. I think he's called every girl in the school wench (except for the teachers )

The guy at your school is too young to call me a wench. It just doesn't work .

Ah young one. Thine jealousy shows on thy face thou gleeking reeling-ripe mammet! (HA HA! I found the Shakespearean generator at last! :banana If thou persists, I shall send a plethora of soiled toddlers to infest and smelleth up thy house!

I shall send groups of demented old deaf people to preach religion on your doorstep! They don't know the meaning of no thou villainous beetle-headed hugger-mugger! Yea they will camp out killing any chance of fun you jarring dismal-dreaming canker-blossom!

Oh fuscia! Wretched calamity, what!!

My mind's eye has been beset by a vision of Pippin, seated at a breakfast table, her arms wrapt about a large mug in a hearty embrace. Her face rubbing the mug at it's side, and her mask sliding off to reveal her crusty beetle-head.

Mine inner peace has been stripped away. I stand mentally defrocked... Thou hast corrupted my mind's eye with this horrid mental sight. My stomach is unsettled, and I violently convulse with retches!!

Be no so fervent in thine expression of such atrocities, fuscia, lest ye injure me beyond recompense...

Whidden, thou art a goatish ill-nurtured blind-worm. A misbegotten dismal-dreaming skainsmate! Your bedded hair, like life in excrements, start up and stand on end.

I ran out of Shakepere quotes, so, sadly for you Pippin, I'm going to combine B2K quotes with shakespere quotes and Whidden rambling to rebuke you soundly.

You poor pathetic little girl, you have no idea whats in store for you.




Pippen often times attend holy gatherings armed with a sharp weapon, in case a flax wench wishes to become violent. *






















*oringinal quote:

Mahesh, thou art a wretch whose natural gifts are poor. Were I thee I would throw myself away.

Pippen, thou wilst recieve an even more savage retort from the house of Whidden, for making me wait.

Practice young wench, practice thy punkish wit.

If thou art too impish to fight, then retire quickly, if thy fails to reinforce thy wit with brutish force!





Original quote:
bu i guess im all anxios cuz dis gyrl wanna figh me 2morrow an all. bu we couldve did dis Saturday cuz i was ready an i wasnt playin roun wit her bu she punked out. i guess she neede sum time ta practice bu it aint gonna help her. ima beat her even worse cuz she made me wait dis long. i mean if u scare 2 figh sum1 y u gotta pop ish if u noe u ain gonna bac it up.

you all suxx0rz

Lookie here ya boot-lickin, duded up egg suckers. We don't take too kindly to that fancy talk in these parts. Why don't ya mosey on before I get crooked.

-HECK!

Heck, you are as a candle, the better burnt out.

Ye all are scurvy puke-spewing bags. A pox o'ye all. To the depths with ye, every one. Hide your faces amongst the dead things of the dark forests, and be ye seen nevermore. A dung-beetle refuses your excrement. All good things flee from you, and that includes me.

Silence yon blabbering hole, you hoary headed dung heap.