Health Bores

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I want to Cunt health bores.

While out for a drink,I had the misfortune to run into an old acquaintance . I hadn’t seen him for months but had heard something about him being in hospital. I made the mistake of asking him how he was keeping…What a fucking error that was,the Cunt proceeded to tell me all about his fucking operation. He’d got to the point of undoing his trouser buttons to show me his stitches when I had to stop the malingering old Sod.

Safe in the knowledge that he was sporting a piss-bag which I’d squeeze (wet dream in reverse?) if he cut up rough,I told him that I’d only asked out of politeness, not genuine interest,and that he was a moaning old bugger who wouldn’t be happy if someone decked his arse with diamonds. He then had the gall (if not the gallbladder any longer) to call me a selfish Cunt! I told him that it was probably my taxes that had paid for his operation,considering that he’s been retired for years and so can’t have been paying enough tax to cover what he’d obviously cost the NHS,so I could hardly be accused of being selfish.

People should realise that an enquiry into their health,unless from a doctor or funeral director, isn’t an invitation to recount the gross details of their gradual decay to all and sundry.

Fuck them.

Nominated by Dick Fiddler

29 thoughts on “Health Bores”

  1. That’s pretty much why I gave up on Face Book, my page turned into victor meldew’s diary crossed with an obituary page.
    Far to depressing.

  2. Sorry Dick, must have made your pint taste a bit off! Or put you off having your third or fourth, what a selfish cunt he was/is

    By contrast, one of the old boys in my local at the end of last year, stepped off of the bar stool and told me that he was “going outside for a fag” (a cigarette for non-UK contributors).

    I asked him why he had started smoking again, to which he replied “Look, the wife died three years ago, the fucking cat died last year, the cancerous tumour in my lung isn’t getting any bigger; so, fuck it, might as well have a smoke”. After a short pause, he said “After-all, what’s the worse that can happen?”

    That’s more like it eh? British stiff upper lip. Proper old East Ender.

    • I once stepped over an old fella who’d had a heart-attack and collapsed at the bar. I,apparently,said “Excuse me” as I pushed through the people who were trying to help him,picked up my pint from the bar and went and stood next to the fire as they tried to revive him…anyone,to cut a long story short,he died and I was vilified as being “a heartless Cunt.”….Fucking unfairly,I still think.

      • a story a lad told me they used to have a a few beers in the park after work and met an old lonley fella sat down on park bench and chinwag and he never sipped a beer and he fell over died and they called the ambulance treated like a alcho who died in the park and so it goes Heartless cunts and i have come to the conclusion while they are all down dipping his wallet for information you get a free beer and a packet cigs inclusive of a cig lighter

      • Unless I were a trained first-aider or cardio-thoracic specialist, I’d have done exactly the same, DF.

        If, however, I see Linekunt go arse over tip, I shall shout out, very self-importantly, “I am a proctologist, let me through!”

        I shall then shove the largest possible pineapple right up the cunt’s sphincter.

  3. Fucking right, Mr F. Who do these cunts think they are, boring you with their problems? I had a sparkie come to my house last year (to install electrical power to my external garage) who proceeded to attempt to tell me about his wife leaving him a fortnight before. As you might well imagine, his tale of woe was met with a stony-faced wall of indifference. I went out and came back half an hour later to discover that this loser prick had wormed his way into my house and was trying to curry favour with Mrs. Cunt Engine. Fine, that bitch can take care of herself. But then he attempted to make a fuss of my dog. And he is only encouraged to harrass peacefuls. That was just beyond the pale and he was ordered back into the garage to complete his task. After, he said that he’d have to keep in contact to give me the certificates. Sad cunt. He looked somewhat crestfallen when told, “not a chance, just post them.” Fucking pathetic weirdo. Maybe I should try and indulge in the milk of human kindness? Naaah, fuck that.

    • My builders wife fucked off just after he ripped the back off my house, I tolerated one day of morning and then fixed him up with the local slapper (who I was going to pay) any way harmony was restored and I got the extension built, he got a years worth of leg over all was good.

      • I really don’t know where to start with this extraordinary advice, Lord B. I’d never even considered pimping out the fat boiler from behind the bar of my local as a method of paying the builder. I’m not too sure how she’ll take the suggestion,but I’ll ask her next time I’m allowed back in.
        🙂 .

  4. Got a call from the hospital last night…
    “I’m sorry to have to break the news to you, but your wife has been involved in an accident. Her face is in a bit of a mess and she has a nasty gash”…

    I said “I know that, but is she injured….

  5. A more than worthy cunting Dick.

    I used to wear a T-shirt that read:

    I DON’T
    WANT
    TO KNOW!

    Surprisingly effective actually… However, there will always be the hard core attention seeking bore who will only start to get the message once your fist is lodged firmly in their miserable boat race.

    T-Shirt badly faded now. Time to get another batch printed up.

  6. I know what you mean but from the other side. This will be brief ok!

    I had a hip operation that went terribly wrong and a long story short, I bump into people who ask “how are you” and I know they are only being polite and don’t give a flying fuck how I am, so I just say the hip is ok, but they did find out through blood tests that I now have full blown aids. They don’t ask you again.

    • No,I’ll bet they don’t, Sir Les. I must try that one the next time anyone says I’m looking a bit pale or have a sniffle. My reputation can only be improved by a blown aids diagnosis. 🙂 .

      Hope the hips better.

  7. I feel your pain Mr Fiddled

    I worked with a cunt who drove me up the fucking wall with his endless depressive life stories. Even his dog died on Xmas day…..probably ate the lid off the tin of dog food deliberately as it probably knew it had to listen to his special Xmas dooms day fucking stories
    Every day I imagined myself as one of the people on that plane in airplane the movie……listening to that striker cunt….dreaming of pouring petrol over myself and lighting it up…. to hanging myself from the workshop rafters. Needless to say he was called striker behind his back

      • Ho ho, “Mr Fiddled”. Have you been partying at that nice Mr Barrymore’s again, Dick?!

      • Mr Fiddled…..I’m fucking speechless ! I’ve been insulted by some good ‘uns but that takes the biscuit.
        🙂 .

      • At least now you can claim victimhood status. Perhaps Liam Neeson will front an ad campaign on your behalf?

      • Curious to discover joys of the…er…”ins and outs” of a jolly good Lubbocking?

      • “Top,Middle or Bottom?” “What is a hot Spot not?”……I really should have taken the hint at that point…. Still,there’s no way that the NHS would have been able to get my piles back in place so effectively.

  8. I read that the bloke who invented predictive text died recently.

    Restaurant in peace

  9. So you don’t want to hear about my fourteen operations? Ok then. See if I care.

    By the way the bloke in the picture looks like he’s had a cesarean section. I’m assuming it’s a fella.

  10. A mate of mine had the worlds worst piles (verbatim quote), moan, moan fucking moan. He used to bore me/us shitless with his constant whining about how sore they were. Another pal asked him to have a look, to which he rattled down his tweeds and got his arse out. Fuck me, the bastards were huge, it was no wonder he was moaning all the time. Unfortunately my buddy, who had no time whatsoever for mr moaning piles, took it upon himself to twat this bunch of arse grapes with a 12” steel rule ( which all good engineers keep on their person). Arse grapes burst, claret everywhere….the poor cunt rolling around the floor bleeding everywhere, me laughing like fuck until he went quiet and passed out. We then preceded to shit ourselves and hastily call the medics.

  11. Only trouble is, I do know that CPR stuff. I need a first-aid certificate for some of the sites that I occasionally work at. However,in this case, I didn’t much care for the old Cunt at the best of times,and he certainly wasn’t wild on me. I shouldn’t think that he’d have relished me administering rescue-breaths any more than I’d enjoy giving them. Better to get my beer and leave it to his pals to sort him out,(or not,as it turned out.)

    • I broke mrs Benny’s (MKII) ribs doing the heimlich maneuver on her, she was choking (as in can’t speak proper choking) and had had some rather nasty surgery on her back so I didn’t want to bash her.
      in retrospect the first aid training did me no favours as we seperated a few years later and I let her have the house.

  12. do no talk about illness because when the boss comes on site put your hat on and take your glasses off because they are sacking the old uns

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