Tim Peake


I was awaked in my dreams by such a fearful flame and a rushing of comets. Terrible signs and portents indeed. A ginger haired man fried to a crisp. The heavens hath spoken. I bespoke me the ginger haired cunt about to leave this world never to return: the grinning astronaut cunt Major Tim Peake

Nominated by: Cuntfinder General

15 thoughts on “Tim Peake

  1. What a total cunt, he may be ‘in orbit’ but NO ONE has ever set foot on the Moon.
    Biggest lie since Tome Cruise got married.
    Some journalist asked Neil Armstong (a devout christian) to swear on the bible he walked on the Moon for $5000 for charity, he refused!

    NO ONE HAS EVER WALKED ON THE MOON, the biggest cold-war lie ever, all propagated by Stanley Kubrick and his back screen projection movie techniques.

    Fuck NASA, bunch of CIA propaganda cunts!

  2. Not sure about the moon landing hoax thing…. Apparently the Apollo XI module can still be seen on the lunar surface from that top bollocks telescope in Chile… Mind you, nothing would surprise me…

    And as for the gutter press and their Bowie puns (‘Ground control to Major Tim’)… What a load of shite… Yet another pointless ‘National Hero/Treasure’… Tim Peake is like Eddie The Eagle in a spacesuit…

  3. i was mooting whether to cunt peake but gave him a pass because he’s just a performing dog for MSM and HMG. Fair play to him going up there where every component of the ship and station went to the “lowest” bidder and that’s before then backhanders were paid.

  4. I would like to nominate target advertising on tv for a cunting.

    I decided to watch an old black and white “st trinians” film with my girlfriend, the film was good I enjoyed it.
    The first add break suggested that should my partner sneeze, cough, or laugh, she may possibly piss herself! Whilst I was informed I should be looking at a funeral plan.
    Film continues, new add break.
    Now I never knew this, but when we take the dog out and she goes blackberry picking, its not so, she is having aisneeky shit behind a bush because she doesn’t take imodium instants.
    At this point my relaxing tickle my ribs entertainment has turned into a rather sinister, “has she shat herself?” She laughed, “should I check the sofa” (note to self plastic seat covers, before stair lift) then realising if I mention any of this, I have no funeral plan.
    Well done target advertising, I’m off to see Dad’s army next week, fuck knows how you are going to spoil that one.

  5. The difficulty I have with space travel is that the human race doesn’t exactly get along nicely. The aliens have got no fucking chance…

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