Jibe talking
I always think he looks like somebody has put their finger up his bottom and he really rather likes it No1 guide to best and wittiest insults for all you lovers of scorn
ONE of the biggest untruths ever told is, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”.
If words didn’t hurt, nobody would say, “You’re as ugly as a salad”, as the Bulgarians do, or call someone, “a man with a fork in a world of soup”, as Noel Gallagher said of his brother Liam.
I love the snarl, anger, swagger, and the sheer wit of insults.
Ever since the first nomad shouted, “May the fleas of a million camels infest your armpits”, humans have been inventive at dishing the dirt. And Twitter’s not far from Shakespeare.
“Cream-faced loon” (Macbeth) and “Mangled apricot hellbeast” (@queenbernstein on Trump) are siblings, born centuries apart.
BRUTAL
Scorn can be eloquent, as when Oscar Wilde said, “The play was a great success, but the audience was a disaster”, or brutal, as when a Nicaraguan dictator crowed, “You won the elections, but I won the count”, or rueful, as when, having lost an election, a former US Congressman said, “The people have spoken – damn them”.
What all good scorn shares is accuracy. “How can they tell?” asked Dorothy Parker, when told famously boring President Calvin Coolidge had died.
“Maybot” (of Theresa May) or “a barmaid’s idea of a gentleman” (Robert Harris on Jacob ReesMogg MP) derive their venom from a shaft of honest observation.
When scorn is dished out between equals, I say let rip.
“What’s the difference between God and Bono?” asked Louis Walsh. “God doesn’t wander down Grafton Street thinking He’s Bono.”
Scorn: The Wittiest and Wickedest Insults in Human History, by Matthew Parris (Profile, £8.99).
It is not true that Andrew Lloyd Webber and I are no longer speaking to each other. I saw his last show. At least I hope it was his last show. SIR TIM RICE
I’d rather have a rectal examination on live TV by a fellow with cold hands than have a Facebook page. GEORGE CLOONEY
A whole family of women who take the faces they were born with as a light suggestion. AMY SCHUMER ON THE KARDASHIANS
It is easier to cancel a nuclear submarine than a civil servant’s parking space. SIMON JENKINS
No amount of cajolery, and no attempts at ethical and social seduction, can eradicate from my heart a deep burning hatred for the Tory Party... So far as I am concerned they are lower than vermin. ANEURIN BEVAN That f***ing stupid, petite bourgeois woman. LORD CARRINGTON ON MARGARET THATCHER. ATTRIB.
There is something about David Cameron that bothers me – those features of his are still waiting to turn into a face. CLIVE JAMES IAN MARTIN ON BORIS JOHNSON
The only fellow I’ve met who fell in love with himself at a young age and has remained faithful ever since. DENNIS LILLEE ON GEOFF BOYCOTT
Warne: I’ve been waiting two years for another chance at you.
Cullinan: Looks like you spent it eating. DARYLL CULLINAN AND SHANE WARNE AS THE FORMER CAME OUT TO BAT. Television? Television is for being on, dear boy, not for watching. NOËL COWARD
You should never say bad things about the dead, you should only say good ... Joan Crawford is dead. Good. BETTE DAVIS
Had this weird dream Theresa May humiliated herself in snap election and clung to power with homophobe fundamentalist terrorist sympathisers. OWEN JONES ON TWITTER
The Rev Ian Paisley has died. The authorities have asked that we should all observe a minute’s shouting. DAVID BADDIEL
Wherever my dad is now, he’s looking down on me ... Not because he is dead, but because he is very condescending. JACK WHITEHALL
Women might be able to fake orgasms, but men can fake whole relationships. SHARON STONE Sex at age 90 is like trying to shoot pool with a rope. GEORGE BURNS
Overweight, overbosomed, overpaid and under-talented, she set the acting profession back a decade. DAVID SUSSKIND ON ELIZABETH TAYLOR IN 1963 FILM CLEOPATRA
Elizabeth Taylor has more chins than the Chinese telephone directory. JOAN RIVERS The best thing that comes out of Yorkshire is the road to Lancashire DAME THORA HIRD
I once saved David Frost from drowning.
A gurgling loaf with a sheepdog’s haircut and a repertoire of Latin bum jokes.