Creative Insults

You have all the wit of a lascivious sea-slug in heat.

You have a face unfit for radio.

Entire branches of science have sprouted from the study of your alarming personal hygiene and weapon-grade body-odour.

Your conversational skills are slightly better than a day seminar on Latin grammar.

The very image of naive optimism is you, buying an engagement ring.

You're like the poster child for Roe v. Wade.

Sorry for interrupting, I was just wondering how much I owe you for curing my insomnia?

My mother told me to never speak ill of people. So, let me just say you are a marvellously articulate chimp.

You make a strong case for wars of attrition.

It's not that I find you boring. It's that you are.

My friend bet me I'd never find someone who looked like a pair of donkey testicles, dangled over a raging chemical fire, then doused in brine, scrambled in horse urine, and peppered with the sweepings from a rather large state fair. He owes me twenty bucks.

I'm so sorry about your acid accident.

Well, I think it's brave, going about in public with such a heinous birth defect like that.

Just think, when your dead, Michael Jackon will pay a fortune for your corpse!