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That was an *apalling* comeback, Iggy. It doesn't even *mean* anything. What is it supposed to mean? That I am used to being on the receiving end of homophobic abuse? That I hang out with homophobes? It's diffuse and lame and beneath you. Ooo-er. Beneath. Like an arse. Yes.
The funny thing is, I don't recall ever having discussed my sexuality, or whom I like to have sex with, if indeed I do, on Barbelith. And yet you, Ignatius, having used your incredible powers of perception and the snotty voice in your head to determine that I am clearly a bit of a whoopsy (reads books. Suspicious), and having indulged in not one but two little digs at my taste for man-meat (because it was so hilariously amusing the first time), are now trying to wriggle away on your belly on the roller of these pointless, farty little responses, having been called on your saloon bar innuendo. Either come up with some sort of coherent explanation, or live with the fact that you acted like an arse (ooer. Arse) and work on doing better next time, eh? |
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