The Bastards talk about Bullet Head, boozing and renaissance art. Then they chatter on about the woes of Olde English 800 diarrhea. Terlet gets annoyed with the random topic shifting, shame and shouting ensues. Classtard.

The Bastards bring that new hotness. Do people still say that? Is New Hotness now the Old Hotness? Is Old Hotness now cool? Is cool still cool? Terlet gets drunk on Olde E and shrieks… a lot. There is buckets of fight sports, urban legends and the general chatter that you know and tolerate. Classtard!

The Bastards chat about the wonders of home ownership and yard maintenance. Then it’s limericks, misogyny, and bit of bagel guy. We’ve got buckets of Classtard, go ahead and grab a gooey handful.

Hamtackle likes sports! Did you know that? Well, he does. Hamtackle can talk about sports without warning, at any moment. Fight sports! Ball sports! Almost any kind of sports! SPORTS! SPORTS! SPORTS! SPORTS! SPORTS! SPORTS! SPORTS! SPORTS! SPORTS! SPORTS! Classtard, if there is time for it with all them sports!

The Bastards talk about the movie “Get Carter”. The Michael Caine one, not the Stallone one. They get all creative with limericks and dream journals. Then it’s time to discuss Sean Penn’s performance in “I am Sam”. Insensitivity, ahoy!! Classtard.

The Bastards are back and they love ice cream. The full hour is the sounds of spoon licking and bowl clinking. Did someone say Sprinkles? Fuck, yes. Thatsa spicy Classtard!

Star Trek, birthmarks, painful death, grandpa compost and SPORTS SPORTS SPORTS! That’s Classtard.

The Bastards talk about the 10 Commandments of Office Etiquette. They chat about the Picard Star Trek show, read an article about a man who ate pasta, belligerently. While discussing a porn video game, they discover that Sir Chapsworth has never heard of hentai. They watch hentai. Classtard.

The Bastards get real luscious. Like draped in taffeta, eating pealed grapes kind of luscious. They spoil the Chinese blockbuster, The Wandering Earth, chat about Mickey Rooney and his moist casting couch, review the 2019 Death Pool and a bunch of other garbage. If succulence was a man it would be Sir Chapsworth. Classtard.

The Bastards try to pick which actors resemble each other. It ends up as you would expect with people getting offended. Terlet fat shames, Sir Chapsworth gurgles, Hamtackle argues and Ramtang looks like Josh Hartnett. You’re telling me that that that… that shot of Angel Batista you have there doesn’t look like he’s trying to maybe, uh, playfully grab at your crotch? Classtard.