This horrible woman from Guyana has surfaced again making a speech at the University of Cardiff. Initially when she took the government to court, she denied wanting another referendum, saying that Parliament should vote to trigger Article 50. She said that it had nothing to do with the result but that Parliament had to have their say. Well they did and they voted to trigger Article 50. Now she is saying she wants another referendum. She lied as all she has ever wanted is to stop Brexit by whatever means she can. Just like all those cunts in Westminster she doesn’t believe in democracy, and believes that her vote is worth more than that of us “plebs”.
nominated by, Cunt me
followed by, W C Boggs with……….
She really IS the cunts cunt:
She’s made her money in this country, why the fuck doesn’t she just take it and piss off to an EU cunt-ry.
She wants students to be *radical* sorry, love, not while they have important things to do like watching Hollyoaks and Home and Away each day.
Yes, these fucking cunting 24-hour-disturbers-of-the-peace richly deserve a solid cunting, along with the selfish, shit-headed fuckwits who subject all and sundry to their endless tinklitty-tinkle-tink (metal fuckers) or binkly-bonkly-binkly-bonkly (wooden cunts).
My fucking bastard neighbours, (the closest I can muster to terms of endearment), not content with being Scousers who’ve relocated to North Wales, have seen fit to hang said tinklitty-tinkle-tink outside their front door. Some 10 feet away from my front door.
These neighbours’ own attempts to communicate are sufficient to elevate my piss to thermo-nuclear meltdown temperature – an excruciating white noise sound, like an off-station radio, where every “C” sound is reminiscent of a consumptive tramp clearing his throat. I simply cannot listen – it’s a fucking pickaxe in the lughole.
But by virtue of a bloody bastarding wind chime, they have cranked up the aural torture to new and unchartered territory way beyond their own inherent cacophony.
Nailed the fucking things up outdoors then closed all their hermetically-sealed double-glazed windows and doors so they don’t hear the non-stop tinkling or binkling. If I were to record a 5 second clip of a song and play it over and over and over, on a loudspeaker outside my house, 24/7, I’m sure I’d be getting a visit from Plod…
The other neighbours had one a few years ago – A binkly-bonkly-binkly-bonkly one, which they left hanging in the breeze in their garden opposite my house, then fucked off on holiday for a week. Despite their efforts to locate it upon their return, it was never found.
Probably because they didn’t think to look in the communal septic tank….
Nominated by Cunt Reviled
Co-commentators in football are overdue a well deserved cunting. These irritating fuckwit arseholes, most of which are also pundit cunts, ruin the match with their inane drivel and use of overused cringeworthy footballing cliches. As if it wasn’t already bad enough having to listen to shite analysis before and after the match as well as at half time, you also have to painstakingly endure a further 90 minutes of utter codswallop from the likes of Andy “Squarehead” Hinchcliffe, Danny “Jobsworth” Higginbottom, Kevin “Camp Bastard” Davies and all the other retired overpaid monotonous football tossers with nothing better to do than plague our viewing experience with their nonsense.
Every match I, as well as millions of other poor sods, have to endure this utter abomination week in week out. Old overused cliches, stating the fucking obvious and boring pointless chatter about irrelevant shite is what we have to put up with for the duration of the match. No one gives a flying fuck about your playing days of what you had on your toast for breakfast. Also, there is no need for your ‘expert analysis’ as I don’t need to be talked through the events that are unfolding. I’m sat here bloody watching it for christ sake I don’t need to be talked through what I’ve already seen with my own fucking eyes you useless git. What is the point in having two commentators anyway? You only really need the one cunt at the absolute max, having another giving us their view on things and conversing with the main commo is too much to bear. The shit that comes out the mouth of the co-commo gets me riled up more than if things are going against my own team. The same recycled cliches and their irrelevant shite opinion all the fucking time. Arselicking the ref by saying “it’s the right decision, he’s got that one spot on, for me. He brushed his boot lace, you can’t be doing that I’m afraid. He’s let his team, the manager and the fans down there.” Shit like this makes me want to drive to the stadium, locate the gantry where this fat cunt is sat and viciously assault him while shouting cliches at him. These overpaid and overhyped imbeciles need to be sacked immediately and taken behind a shed and shot.
Co-commentators, you are all cunts!
Nominated by, Jayniño
Newcastle student paid hundreds for iPhone X box filled with CONCRETE in online scam.Omar tried to buy an iPhone X online but only realised he had been the victim of the fraud after handing over £650 for the empty box.”
I’d like to Cunt people who are too greedy to see what would be obvious to most people.
These people who think that they’ve won a lottery that they haven’t even entered,or buy a £1000 phone from some dodgy Cunt on ebay,or respond to an email from Prince BlueGums of Bananaland offering $1 million if they supply their bank account details, etc.
I’m aware that some old people get caught up in these scams,and have a modicum of sympathy for them,but often their family say that they hid the letters so nobody was aware of what was going on…Well if they were sufficiently compos mentis to hide the evidence,they must have also been sufficiently compos mentis to realise that everything possibly wasn’t ticketty-boo.
As for the just plain naive and greedy,well, Fuck them,they get what they deserve.
Nominated by Dick Fiddler
GiffGaff and Nationwide, I’m looking at you, you cunts.
The latest Nationwide one doesn’t even have the fucking decency to rhyme properly! Some gurning old dorris, sitting smugly in her conservatory, regaling us with a tale of how her mother gets “so excited [by football] she can’t watch it on TV any more”.
You’re not John Cooper Clarke, love. Put a sock in it and fuck off.
Apparently, the use of poetry is to “differentiate” themselves from other ads. This must be some new meaning of the word “differentiate” that I wasn’t previously aware of because, as far as I can see, they’re all fucking at it.
These adverts don’t make me want to buy into the product, they just stir in me an overwhelming desire to eviscerate both the hipster cunt who came up with the idea and the pointless waste of DNA who’s performing it. Nationwide even took their cuntitude to new heights and set poetry to music (although I use both words in their loosest possible senses) with the egregious Flo & Joan.
Maybe I’m an old cunt but I think adverts have gone downhill since the pinnacle of “Are you open Yeti?”
nominated by, Thirkleby Spunktrumpet