A nomination for Joanne Smith, the head teacher at the Rudyard Kipling primary school in Brighton. She has banned children from playing ‘rough’ contact games.
Joanne Smith told pupils they had to play with ‘gentle hands’ – banning traditional games like ‘it’ or ‘British Bulldog.’
Instead, children are being encouraged to hold hands or clap with each other while in the playground. Mrs Smith wrote: ”To clarify, ‘Gentle Hands’ does not mean ”no touching.”
‘The children are of course allowed to hold hands or play clapping games with a friend should they wish to. Gentle Hands simply means playing games outside that do not need to be physical.This will ensure the playground is a happy, safe and calm place where everyone can enjoy their lunchtime running around and getting the exercise we know is important to them.’
One parent said ‘I’m going to teach my son about another game instead, that’ll really scare the snowflake headteacher – kiss-chase.’
Knowing that silly cunt head teacher, she’ll probably agree to that, but only same-sex kiss chase.
What a cunt, but are we surprised, given that Brighton is the fruit loop capital of the south? Expect this policy to be adopted by Islington very soon.
Nominated by Mystic Maven
BEATRICE BASS (WOULD BE M.P)
A sweet sickly Swinsonesque cunting please for this up-her-own-arse lass, who is upset that Brexit might spoil her skiing plans in January
The self-obsessed fuckwit, who has the same sort of shit eating smirk as her leader is obviously the role model of the modern MP – a complete shit-stain. I am sure she is pissing her Tena-ladies at the thought of all those lovely expense claims she will be able to put in – like so many others she doesn’t give a flying fuck about democracy or “the people” – it is just a nice easy well-paid job where she will be revered by the BBC and her pussy-whipped feminist male colleagues.
What a cunt!
Nominated by W. C. Boggs
Anomination for faddish foods, or food fads.
The one that comes to mind is pulled pork, or the facsimile of it, usually shredded crust in a sugary gloop.
Pulled pork is really the Southern US version slow cooked hog roast, where the meat is gently cooked until it is less pulled and can barely hold to the bone.
There are a few others, such as lobsters with ‘mac and cheese’, venison and chocolate, the ubiquitous nonsense of noughties pub menus, ‘hunters chicken’ – not chicken chasseur – consisting a chicken breast wrapped in rashers of bacon, then smothered in cheddar and more of that rich overpowering BBQ sauce.
Probably the noughties equivalent of the more recent obsession for BBQ ‘pulled’ pork.
Another ingredient that became far too frequent on menus and supermarket shelves was chorizo.
As for dinky donks (Frankie Howerd), everything and everyone is drowning in Prosecco, gin and grapefruit-infused craft ale.
Perhaps worst of all is the hipster cretins having ironic 70s dinner parties.
There’s nothing ironic about eating a Chicken Kiev, so fuck off.
Nominated by Cuntamus Prime
The British legal system
It turns out that the Cunt who was shot on London Bridge yesterday, was convicted of terrorism offences some years ago, and was out on licence.
Once these fuckers have been locked up they should stay locked up for life.
The ideal would be to stick them in front of a firing squad.
Only for our poxy, bleeding heart, liberal system, two innocent people would not have died yesterday.
What a heap of Cunt.
Nominated by Jack The Cunter
Lets have another Square Mile cunting for this diminutive crock of shit, London Mayor, and failed ex-cabinet minister Sadiq Khan.
Want to find somebody to blame for yesterday’s terrorist attack at London Bridge?. Of course it cant be the fault of his compatriot, the terrorist ex jailbird. It certainly isn’t little Sadcunt’s fault, anymore than the record number of murders we have had in London this year. It can’t be careerist lesbian Cressida Dick’s fault for running a joke police force,
No the solution is obvious – blame that nasty government
Just a few years ago this little arsewipe would have been thrown out of his job. Perhaps he would now if he were pale, male and stale, but it seems highly likely that the poisonous motherfucker will be returned for another 4 years of misery next year. Fuck him (I’ll leave Dame Keir to do that)
Nominated by W. C. Boggs
The Parole Board
The parole board need cunting again.When are these cunts going to be held to account when they let the dregs of society back out on the streets .Yesterday we had the attack in London from a twat who was out on parole,and funnily enough the ankle tag didn’t seem to dissuade him from crime.The cunts that sit as the parole board should be doing time for letting these scumbags out.
Nominated by CrustyFlaps
I am conscious that I might end up cunting myself here if I’m not careful.
By the way I dedicate this Nom (paraphrasing the words to the Willie Nelson song) to all the bores I have ever known before.
You see cunters I would always end up in the kitchen at parties WITH THE BORE. A soft touch. But in some ways I was fascinated. Trying to analyse it the first thing I would identify about them is that they DON’T LISTEN. That is the determining characteristic of the Bore-they are not listening, their only interest is in what they are saying. Now because they are not listening this allows them to abruptly change the subject. Or just to leave some anecdote or story in the air. The Bore has moved on is the paradox here. HE IS BORED.
The Bore. Let’s look at what great writers have said. James Joyce ‘I have never met a bore’. I suppose in his forensic desire to get to the heart of some character he would find something that was interesting in anybody. Similarly Chesterton said we must try to see a bore’s ‘interesting points’. He gave the example of one counting all the blades of grass on a garden lawn. What a yawn reader. But yes, maybe, he wanted to more ‘fully explore’ the. garden lawn. Waugh? ‘He couldn’t go on being Hardcastle, day and night, always, could he?’ Sebastian asks Charles in Brideshead. And that is actually a very profound question. My friend Dave comes to mind. As he walks out of the pub I look after him and think ‘He couldn’t go on being Dave, day and night, always, could he?’ But I know he must do.
Switching it as is my wont as a putative bore but really we could change the name of this site from ‘Is a Cunt’ to ‘Is a Bore’. That’s what we’re cunting everday-the utter PREDICTABILITY of cunts. In the morning when I click on ISAC with many Noms of people you have only to look at the picture TO KNOW (before they even open their mouths as it were) what’s coming. That is the boredom of today. The utter predictability of everyting.
You know cunters Waugh (in the 50s) said-‘I see boredom everywhere’ about the coming decades. And what did Hazlitt say? ‘Most men are fools’ . Most men are bores today and women too.
I need to finish up I’m becoming as bore. Yes, what about the world beyond? Yes, at the Beatific Vision the bore who never stops talking, doesn’t listen. In the presence of the power and the glory the bore still telling the same story. Forever. Oh, hell.
Nominated by Miles Plastic