I’ve never been good with insults. Most would probably consider that a good thing, but something deep down inside me wishes I could come up with some awesome zingers should the opportunity ever present itself. Alas, I can’t think on my feet. Everything, well, most everything, I do is carefully thought out, weighed and balanced, and put into neat little lists before I even attempt going ahead. My inability to form a coherent word would leave me standing there as they strode off with a winning smirk self-congratulations.
For inspiration to help my dilemma, I combed the pages of history because there’s nothing better than a witty and perfectly worded insult from some of the greats.
-You’re not interesting enough to make me sick – Cher
-The smell of you alone is enough to wrinkle the noses of pigs – Purity Pinker
-Do you call that a head on your shoulders or a blessed dead eye – Long John Silver
-I didn’t attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved – Mark Twain
-I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening, but this wasn’t it – Groucho Marx
-He has delusions of adequacy – Walter Kerr
-Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries – Monty Python