Mark Kermode


Film critic Mark Kermode is a pretentious, vain, loudmouthed, turd-gurgler of the highest order. Not only is he ubiquitous in print and on TV he actually does tours where he gets up on stage where an audience of mouth-breathing media studies undergrads get their undies all cummy.

Opinions are like assholes, certainly, but it takes a special sort of cunt to believe that his own opinions are so penetrating and vital that everyone else should adopt them in place of their own and that he be paid for it.

By courting the tarnished trappings of multi-media celebrity Kermode has deluded himself into thinking that he also is a real part of the film industry, just like the actors and directors and myriad other people who, you know, actually make films. He’s a mediocrity hanging off the cock of real film professionals who actually have the courage to stand up and make something and put it out there for people to see. Kermode is an intellectual coward who, like all critics, apes the linguistic exactitude of science whilst avoiding all of its rigour.

It’s easy to be regularly rude about Michael Bay because Michael Bay might very well make shit films but he’s a Hollywood big-shot and wouldn’t know Mark Kermode from a piss droplet on the floor of his mansion’s 11th bathroom.

Kermode’s wife is a Professor of film criticism at some uprated polytechnic meaning she’s another pretentious, dull-witted gobshite who wouldn’t know one end of an Arriflex from the other.

And to top it off he’s chosen to look like a fat, speccy Morrissey. That makes him twice a cunt.

Nominated by: John Milius’ Gun Cabinet



There are some great cities, but I can’t say the same about Liverpool, having been pissed on by drunken scousers one wet night as I lay in my sleeping bag queuing for a passport back in 1981.

Liverpool deserves cunting not just because I was soaked in scouse-piss, but for them inflicting Arthur Askey, Ken Dodd, Kenny Everett and Alexi Sayle on us. I’d also nominate them for the worst musical crap they produced in the 1960’s such as Cilla and Jerry and the Pacemakers. As far as the rest goes, that bloody awful series “Bread”.

Miserable city, the only redeeming part being the ferry over to the IOM for the T.T.

Nominated by: Lez

( I’d have given that blond one in the Liver birds one tho’ Ed. )

The Leader of the Free World


The last several Presidents of the wonderful U S of A have all been cunts. Obama is sure shaping up to be one. George Bush was the perfect epitome of a cunt. Bill Clinton skull fucked a big fat cunt.

I’ll bet, though, that some of the goons criticizing him the loudest did a lot more than skull fuck a cunt in their offices. I wonder how many other presidents (cunts) skull fucked a cunt (or something else) while they held office the good ol’ voters, never knew a thing about it????

Nominated by: Jim Something Or Other

Jose Mourinho

Real Madrid-coach Jose Mourinho attends

In a sport run, managed, officiated and played by cunts, The Special Cunt is in a league of his own. Fluent in at least four different languages, he’s incapable of being humble in any of them. So when his team of expensively assembled mercenaries fails to win a match, he trots out the same old litany of pathetic excuses and associated paranoia.

No wonder his players are such a bunch of cunts as well — from his sex pest centre back right the way through to his diving, spitting centre forward.

Nominated by: Norman Cunter

Old Jose is a miserable cunt… He makes Kenny Dalglish look like a song and dance man…

Even if he had a thousand quid in each ear and was taking Kylie Minogue up the jacksy, Mourinho wouldn’t even crack a smile…

John Terry is a family sized bumpor cunt too…

Nominated by: Norman

Cunt O’MaCunto

Celeb pics of the afternoon slider

Went out for a little swigaroo last night in my local. Quietly having a Ginger Grouse when in walk some rowdy so-and-so’s, you know the type, tattoos and hipster beards (cunts). It didn’t take long for the twits to make their way over to myself and the beautiful Mrs O’MaCunto, when one of these arse-holes plonked his trilby on my head (I mean a fucking TRILBY! On a night out! What an unforgivable cunt).

Well, I charmed these fine young gentlemen with a ‘Nice one, now please fuck off lads’, quite polite of me considering the situation I thought, and upon looking around, the cunts soon discovered it wasn’t the sort of establishment that ‘selfies’ and putting fucking Creed on the jukebox would be accepted. They soon made their way to the exits, departing with a cheeky ‘Yeah, you can keep the hat mate!!’, and off they went on their merry way, sure to end up fingering some transgender looking filly en route to a kebab house.

Anyway, then the Mrs turns to me and says ‘You look like Olly Murs in that hat’. Therefore, it is with great regret that I must cunt myself for resembling that bag of shit. What a fucking dreadful end to the week.

Nominated by : Cunt O’MaCunto