Kevin the painter


I crave your indulgence, dear reader but I’m afraid I just have to get this off my chest. I desperately need to cunt Kevin the painter…

How long do you think it takes one man to paint a five bedroom house? A week? A bit longer? No – how about two weeks and a day. Picture this: Kevin the Cunt rolls up in his van at 8:30 and sticks it on the double yellow lines. There’s plenty of legal parking, but that means he’d have to walk ten feet further. Literally. Kevin the cunt knows best. “PCSO’s can’t issues tickets” he tells me when I suggest he parks in the drive belonging to the house’s he’s painting. Two days later, a PCSO gives a ticket. Result.

Anyhow, it’s 8:30 and Kevin doesn’t start work before nine, so he sits under my fucking bedroom window with the radio blaring while he drinks tea, reads the paper, and plays with his phone. At 9 o’clock the props come out – ladders are leaned against the wall of the house, then Kevin fucks off to make a few phone calls and drink some more tea. In his fucking van. Under my fucking window.

Of course, whilst all this is going on, he leaves a radio blaring away on the next door back lawn so the people inside think he’s working. In fact, Kevin the Cunt likes his radio. He leaves it blaring all day. Even when he’s not there. Because he’s fucked off to his van to make some more phone calls.

Kevin’s phone is omnipresent. I can only assume that he’s got a contract with 10,000 free minutes a month on it and he’s fucking desperate not to waste any of them.

Anyway, it’s been nice and sunny for the last couple of weeks and you wouldn’t want to waste the sunshine, would you? Well, Kevin the Cunt certainly doesn’t. Because he doesn’t like to paint more than half a window frame at a time without taking a ten minute break lying on the customers back lawn – and of course it’s a perfect opportunity to make a few more fucking phone calls.

Even when he’s two stories up the side of the building on a ladder with a paint pot in one hand and the brush in the other, he’s rabitting into his bloody phone which is tucked under his chin. I found myself praying he’d just lose his balance because at least while he was in hospital, we’d get a break from his radio. And his fucking phone.

I have met some fucking lead swinging bone idle bastards in my time, but this cunt takes the fucking biscuit. What I haven’t worked out is who he’s conning. He’s self employed so if he’s skyving then who’s he robbing but himself? We reckon the only explanation is that he’s quoted ten days for the job and doesn’t want to finish under that in case the customer complains at the cost.

But at the end of the day, is he a good painter? Well, I saw him paint half of a window sill and then move the ladder to paint the other half. Shame he rested the ladder against the half he’d just painted.

So my advice is if you’re looking for a painter, don’t give the job to fucking Kevin!!!

Nominated by: Dioclese

12 thoughts on “Kevin the painter

  1. Tom Clleverley is a cunt… A useless, clueless, gormless tosser: and easily one of the worst players I have ever seen in over 35 years of going to Old Trafford…

  2. Lazy tin slapping fuckwits
    What do you call a dustbin man with his brains kicked out?
    What is two brain cells removed from a blade of grass ?
    When you are failure in life what options for a carreer?
    If you can piss you paint as the saying goes
    braindead fucks and kev must be wicked on glossing skirting boards
    and known in circles as the running man, And anything below the knee is taboo, And think yourself lucky he never had a mate with him or one from the pub still pissed from the night before!
    and when the cunts are doing interior work put a lock on the wifes knicker drawer hide the dildo collection and the laundry basket must be empty !
    In the winter months make sure you close curtains because the fucksticks will for sure take a peek in your artillery room and see you and your misses getting ready for work
    Hints and tips

  3. Painters, chippies and plasterers might investigate the knicker drawer and the laundry basket, but bloody brickies will take the washing off the line as soon as its put up

  4. oi cuntface learned and not a dumb diddly di do
    before the interweb there used to give jazz mags ,razzle,fiesta ……………
    hidden underneath bed of the customer and the best was the council estates
    and absoluteley no shame

  5. I thought I’d escaped this cunt – but no!
    Here he is again ‘painting’ a house across the road and four doors down and I can still here his fucking radio. To make it worse, the cunt has parked his flashy Audi sports estate outside my kitchen window and is in and out like a fiddler’s elbow!

    Yesterday he had some scaffolding erected front and back because the top windows are on the fourth floor. Monkeys climb trees more often than this cunt climbs scaffolding. What the fuck is he doing ?!!?

    He’s been here since last Wednesday already. How fucking long does it take to paint one house? Answer : Quite a while when you spend all your time on the fucking phone!!

    I wonder what deal he’s got with the scaffolding company and how the lazy cunt can afford an Audi? Signing on and cash in hand are two phrases that leap to mind. I’m sure he’d never do anything so dishonest tho’ 😉

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