Insult competition, FINAL ROUND! Vote for the winner!

[Andail]

So Baron, Eric and Miguel have, despite their apparent lack of insulting skills, made it to the final round.

This time, the only rule is that you can't double-post. Apart from that, you're free to insult either or both of your opponents, and you don't have to wait until both have posted. 

LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE111!

[CaptainD]

I DEMAND A RECOUNT!!!!!

Congrats to these 3 dubious competitors... may the least worst man win!

[miguel]

AHHH! Do you call this a contest?
Even a malfunction internet bot could defeat the one-eyed nobleness and his partner the ant-eater!

[Baron]

Even a malfunction internet bot could defeat the one-eyed nobleness and his partner the ant-eater!

Well I hope that's a malfunctioning internet bot in your pocket, then.  Otherwise I've never seen anyone take so much pleasure from an imminent defeat.... 

may the least worst man win!

[This is suddenly a lot like Survivor, in that our previous victims will make up the bulk of the jury who will judge us in this final round.  Aaaaand Eric stinks like he hasn't bathed in three weeks while eating grubs on a deserted island.   But mostly for the first reason.]

[Eric]

Captain, you're lucky -- it's about to get heated. Let me introduce the next batch of the defeated:

Miguel has a thing for Italian women. It's a shame that he looks like Walter Brennan.
He doesn't try to rhyme; he just doesn't have the stuff. For him, complete sentences are tough enough.

Baron is a nobleman in title only. His hobbies are cowardice and being lonely.
Insult scholars will judge my barbs to him canonical. I will drop harsh words to make him pop his monocle.

[miguel]

Eric, le pervert voyeur, if I was judged only by Italian women I wouldn't even had to write a single word! The signorinas love a man with a moustache!

Baron, le peuf, the true story behind my enormous erections is not bot related, I do wonder why you show a keen interest on my package.

[Eric]

Miguel: Your disgusting bristles are fooling no one. That's a glue-on mustache, 'cause you can't grow one.

[Baron]

@ Miguel: A certain type of woman loves a man with your flair (that is, for braiding feminine back and armpit hair!)

@ Eric: My lonely hobby results in many finished games.  Your lonely hobby results only in palm-friction flames!

[Eric]

Baron: My hand-powered hobby starts fires, it's true...from slapping the faces of peons like you.

[miguel]

Eric, you may have an oversized hand from your friction hobby, but to finish a game you need muscle in the brain instead!

Baron, while women feel the passion to discover every hair on my manly body, you have to show off a pointy hat in order to get attention from old ladies in the mall.

[Eric]

Miguel:
My brain is advanced; I'm sharp as a needle. I excel at challenges that are markedly cerebral.
If we're speaking of brains, I'm afraid you have none. You have to count fingers to add 1 + 1.

[Baron]

@ Miguel: The ladies love a man that stands out above the riff-raff; your strategy is to send out fleas to court them on your behalf!

@ Eric: You're all palms on manly flesh any way you cut it; can you take a moment from slapping and whacking to rebut it?

[Eric]

Baron: If you think you'll beat me, then you're no prescient Prussian. It's tears from your mustache hairs you'll be brushin'.
Why not quit now and concede your loss? You've not done much here to earn your iron cross.

[miguel]

Baron, my only strategy towards ladies is not to wear old-fashioned Prussian uniforms, I was told it reminded them of senile Quixotesque-old perverts!

Eric, the only sharp thing about you is the pencil you use to write those weird memos around your house: "Sunday - bath time!"; "Must wash hands after friction hobby!"; "Don't forget drool tissue!"; "My name is Eric", etc...

[Baron]

@ Eric: I tear my moustache for manly fun, my steadfastness the cross did earn; you cry tears 'cause your hand is bandaged due to holes in your palm that you burn!

@ Miguel: The ladies love a man in a uniform, no matter how outdated; what they don't like is your globular form, which is why you remain undated!

[Eric]

Baron: My hands are intact. Your insults are phony. You're turning into something of a one-trick pony.
...Or a dead horse that's beaten 'til no longer equestrian. I'm sad to defend against jokes so pedestrian.

Miguel: The big words above might be too hard for you. Will you take off your socks now and try 2 + 2?
My name is E-R-I-C. I'll spell it for you slowly so you know what it means when it's inscribed on the trophy.

[miguel]

Baron, those old ladies that you play cards in the community centre may induce you into thinking that you're somehow appealing but the truth is: they're mostly semi-blind. The janitor gets more attention than you!

Eric, you're so proud of your intellect, it must help when you chat teen girls on the internet while mutilating your muscular hands! 

[Eric]

Miguel: So you're taking Baron's line of insult as well? That's like stealing bread that's already stale.
I'm not a pedo, that's something I'll swear. It's the mustached old men little girls should beware.

[Baron]

@ Miguel: Even old blind ladies with janitor fantasies deserve a bit of lovin'; but from what I'm hearing you'd rather give them some under-the-bus shovin'! 

@ Eric: My one trick pony and dead-beaten horse have both served me well; but the way you stroke that serpent is going to send you straight to hell! 

[Eric]

Baron: Again, your variety is something to work on. But if a jerker I be, at least I've something to jerk on.
I've used a telescope to see stars, Mars, and Venus. But even high-powered lenses can't find your...well, you know what I mean, old chap. No need to get filthy about it.