Poor Insults: Because Money Can't Buy Class, But It Can Buy Silence

Your insults are so weak, they make a participation trophy seem like a legitimate achievement.

I've seen better burns on a dumpster fire.

Your comebacks are slower than a sloth on valium.

I'm not sure what's more pathetic, your insults or your haircut.

You must have gotten your insults from a kindergartener's playground.

Your wit is duller than a butter knife.

I've heard more scathing remarks from a telemarketer.

Your insults have all the bite of a toothless gerbil.

It's cute how you think you're insulting me, but really, you're just embarrassing yourself.

Your put-downs are about as effective as a chocolate teapot.

You're so bad at this, you're making me nostalgic for knock-knock jokes.