Estate agents

Estate Agents are cunts, aren’t they.


Mr. Dickhead: “Hello, Cunts & Co, Gavin speaking, how may I help you?”

Captain Mags: “Hello, I’d like to sell my flat. How much do you charge?”

Mr. Dickhead: “Hello sir, 1.5%, plus VAT. Can I have your details, phone number, e-mail, and mobile so we can continually bombard you with houses far too expensive for you and miles out of the area?”

Captain Mags: “1.5% is a bit high. What do I receive for that?”

Mr. Dickhead: “We spend almost five minutes showing people around your flat. We also spend three minutes putting your details on-line. Furthermore, we spend an additional minute putting your property in the window. Sometimes we answer the phone. It’s just non-stop work. Can I take your e-mail address?”

Captain Mags: “Erm, that doesn’t sound like much.”

Mr. Dickhead: “We’ll also promise to lie to you about properties, lose your details, not respect your privacy and ignore your phone calls.”

Captain Mags: “Will you also promise to have appalling customer service and no business sense apart from your own rapacious thirst and immoral sensibilities?”

Mr. Dickhead: “We will endeavour to do so. We will constantly treat you as if WE’RE doing YOU a favour. Moreover, you will be shown around properties by cocky half-wits whose knowledge factor is nought and professionalism is atrocious. Can I take your e-mail address?”

Captain Mags: “Certainly. It’s”

Nominated by Captain Magnanimous

The Cunt that gave me the Clap

The Cunt that gave me the Clap

Swing back to the sixties – but did it ever? Certainly more characters around and Blighty still stood tall and proud if a trifle long haired. Summer of Love? That was 1967 and I was there but cannot be arsed to post any links. Embarrassing. Summer of Cunt. Moved in certain circles of a chemical nature and out of the remains of me mind recall a love fest that took place in a mews house in London somewhere near Harrods and Harvey Knicks. Little filly with eyes caked in black eye liner. Only defence me lud I was so stoned I shagged it.
Strange thing about a freshly shagged filly they do like to rabbit after. This filly just the same and while I kept dropping orf (as you do) Yours Truly got the life story in full. Daughter of an Italian Countess no less and a working girl. Proud of that and her career as a Groupie. Still active for “special sweet boys” and had just been fucked by Mick Jagger but she “No fuck Jaggaire when I with you”. Then she pulled out a package of pills from her sock (yes it was a full socks on shag) and lovingly offered YT two antibiotics “So you no get a syphilis”.
Fuck me and live the life. Next morning YT wakes up to the old itching horse prong and a terminal compulsion to piss. Down the Quack’s for the full Monty. Blood tests, wire probe up me dong (Christ that hurts), antibiotics by the shovel, never seen the old bastard so happy. Results come back, some Cairo pox or other, non specific (ie they don’t know what it is) and no specific cure. Keep taking the tablets and drink two litres of water a day for as long as. Good news is sufferers die with it rather than from it. Oh and no alcohol allowed old son. By the way who was your last partner? Mick Fucking Jaggaire.
Bastard Quack was right, over fifty years later and I still have my little love token from Mick (can I flog it on Ebay?). Like Jaggaire it returns from the dead for Stadium Performances only. Whenever YT gets run down, spot of flu, inflammation of me piles ect, it stages a comeback. Then I sod the Quack and drown it out with a bottle of single malt. A miserable time.
Schadenfreude. Not German techno but kraut for taking pleasure from the misery of others. The definition of a cunt. Hence me pleasure now at the decrepit state orf Jagger. Long lenses snap the ancient cunt wherever it goes or hides. Phizzog a ruin of classical proportions – old man’s ears, fading hair dye, skin wrinkled and creased like a bio-degraded condom. The last time I saw a cunt that decomposed it was on a mortuary slab being buggered by Jimmy Saville.
Tee fucking Hee.

Nominated by, Sir Limply Stoke

Admin note, Obviously “keep taking the pills and you will get over it” does not apply, Bad luck old man.


Robert Peston [5]

Robert Peston is about due for a cunting.

Apart from….his…Irrrrrrrrrrrrrritating…hab…it…of talking slowly and raising and lowering his voice whilst pronouncing certain words, the insufferable prick has just suggested that the newest member of the Royal Family…no…not Meghan, Louis Arthur Charles, has been given names that are “basically Remain names”, and thereby suggesting that the Royals are pro-Remian. First of all, I don’t remember any member of the Royal family making any comment that even came close to supporting those traitors in Remain.

And second, no, Peston – Louis, Arthur and Charles are NOT basically remain names. They are not basically Brexit names. They are just…fucking…names. That’s all. We all know that, like all the other smug, self-important London based wankers, you have a needle dicked hard on for the EU.

But to suggest that names are pro-Remain hits a cunt factor of 1 billion. Even by your standards, that’s fucking impressive.

Nominated by Quick Draw McGraw

Hand car wash

Hand Car Washers are cunts, aren’t they.

Is there anybody in society (other than the police) who ISN’T aware that 100% of these dingy havens are drug dealerships? How do these cockroach-infested hovels not get raided every hour of every day?

They are choc-a-fucking-bloc full of scuzzy, tax-dodging Iron Curtains. Barely Entry 1 Level English, probably claiming housing and unemployment benefits, all topped-up with a nightime smack-selling bonus. Either that or they’ve been smuggled in via a lorry earning decent moolah and devoid of any legal status; free to rape or burgle and totally off the grid.

These pop-up scams are bursting with rapey, scrofulous peasants from Romania, Poland, Bulgaria, Hungary, Ukraine, Macafuckingdonia, Albania and every other former communist shitehole. We’ve been well and truly invaded.

Coming to a neighbourhood (after dark) near you, soon.

Nominated by Captain Magnanimous


Me Too [2]

Fuck guys, just when we thought this #metoo shite had ended, more cunts crawl out of the woodwork seeking their 5 minutes of sympathy and their victim of the week medal.

Spotify have now stopped promoting R Kelly on their platform coz some cunt on Twitter complained about him. Obviously the twitch fork mob came out in force to impose their mob justice on everyone that’d listen, and Spotify, like most weak cunts these days, have thrown up the white flag and capitulated unconditionally.

Now I’m not a fan of R Kelly, in fact I despise the cunt and his shite music, but he has strongly denied any wrongdoing and until found guilty by due process he is deemed INNOCENT. … or at least that’s the fundamental foundation of our justice and law based society.

This is what Spotify said:
“We don’t censor content because of an artist’s or creator’s behavior, but we want our editorial decisions – what we choose to programme – to reflect our values.

“When an artist or creator does something that is especially harmful or hateful, it may affect the ways we work with or support that artist or creator.”

This is what Spotify meant:
“We DO censor content because of an artist’s or creator’s behavior (PROVEN OR OTHERWISE), but we want our editorial decisions – what we choose to programme – to reflect our values (EVEN THOUGH WE DON’T HAVE ANY VALUES OUTSIDE OF THE ACQUISITION OF WEALTH).

“When CUNTS ON TWITTER CLAIM THAT an artist or creator does something that is especially harmful or hateful, it may affect the ways we work with or support that artist or creator.”

They’re also now introducing on their platform, the means to report “hate speech” or “hate content”.

More mob justice and more pathetic capitulation.

Weak cunts.

Nominated by deploythesausage