Acronym users


People who use fucking acronyms deserve a good cunting.

You know the types, “like O M G” or “L O L” or even worse use a website name “You’re”

They should all be rounded up, forced to work for nothing, fed on Iceland Turkey Twizzlers and treated to endless repeats of TOWIE until they die live on TV – we could call it “I’m a fucking retard, get me out of here and bury me now”

Presented by Ant & Dec of course!

Nominated by: Jimmy Savile’s corpse



I am now sick to the back teeth of cunts everywhere that think it is their god given right to get stuff for free out of people who work for a living. If you’re too thick or too lazy to do an honest days work, please do the world a favour and fucking top yourself, you useless cunts!

Be it the cunt in the street who sees me lighting up a cigarette and swerves over the pavement trying to scrounge one off me with a cheery “Scuse mate, have you got a spare fag for me”? and then instantly follows it up with a mouth full of abuse when they get directed to the nearest tobacconist (20 Bensons are £9.30 FFS! I guard these things like I would guard a pallet load of cash!).

The irritating chuggers (charity muggers – AKA chunts) that now litter every high street in the kingdom , who bound up to you and block your path, trying to get you to sign up to some direct debit charity bollocks that I wouldn’t give to in a million years.
I have found that the correct response to “Excuse me Sir, do you have a minute to talk about the abused children of Pakistan”? is in fact “No, but I do own a nine stone Rottweiler and a frighteningly short temper and I’m happy to introduce you to both of them, now get the fuck out of my way!”

What really brings this to the fore is that where I live, we have scrounger’s corner. This is the place that every pisshead, junkie and sad act cunt seem to congregate on a rolling basis looking for handouts from the unwary leaving the local supermarket.

Well, I am fucking wary and fucking weary of the bullshit sob stories trotted out by useless cunts trying to part me from my hard earned.

Yesterday’s little gem was some scrote giving me a pile of steaming shit about having ADHD, OCD and numerous other imagined illnesses along with the “I used to live in Manchester and if you can give me a bit of cash I can get back there to my family……..I haven’t eaten in eight days.”

This cunt got directed to the nearest hospital with a two fingered salute and a hearty “Now fuck off!” The cunt didn’t even have a Manc accent. Stupid prick!

Last weekend one of the regulars who doesn’t seem to realise that she has now tried to scrounge off me in three separate locations, tried the “I’ve lost my purse, can you give me some money to get home” bullshit.
She is quite convincing with a panicked look, also direct and to the point. I have to give her that.

What she forgot is that when I asked her where she lives, this time it was Richmond. Last time I saw her was in Victoria station and all she needed was £80 for a train ticket to Bolton, where her family live. I pointed out that trains to Bolton don’t go from Victoria and that she would be better off getting a coach as these are much cheaper. That was met with a tirade of four letter abuse.

Frankly put, I hope they all die screaming, as they get their head stamped on by a gang of hoodrat cunts.

Nominated by: Odin’s Balls



I’d like the local council to explain their reasons for planning road repairs and extensions / “improvements”.

Firstly they spend at least 2 weeks cordoning off and putting diversions into place, which causes mayem with rush hour traffic. (Steveie Wonder could plan these diversions better, as if they don’t necessitate you detouring at least 20 miles, they route you through the roughest council estates, giving the local “migrant workers” the opportunity to steal your tyres as you drive through.

Road works “planned time” is material for a comedy sketch. I’ve learned that you calculate the actual time of disruption by a formula which involves multiplying the actua planned weeks by a factor of 5 then adding on a day for each “white hat” on the job. Factor in two weeks for “inclement weather”, where they cannot do the job and add on 10% for lost time on Fridays, when they all bugger off early.
(Don’t be fooled by them working at weekends.. this is not work, its a religious festival of the church of the road digger, where they drink coffee in the portakbin, read dirty mags and smoke fags.

THEN, just as they can procrastinate no longer, and the work is complete, you can guarantee that they will leave all the contraflows, diversions and bollards in place for at least another two weeks. Not because they need to, but because its too much trouble to remove them.

Lazy cunts!

Nominated by: Lez

I would like to cunt roadworks the council or whichever other cunt is associated with the whole fucking process.

For weeks if not months I have had to travel for half an hour longer each time I want to get on the motorway. I wouldn’t mind if there was a noticeable difference to the road either, but each time I drive past nothing has fucking changed apart from where the overpaid high visibility “workers” are standing. I almost missed a flight today because some twat decided rush hour the day after schools break up is a good time to start a road widening scheme.

I am no expert on architecture, engineering or swiping public coffers but even I can see that was a fucking stupid thing to do. The iceing on the cake of cuntishness is that my tax payer pound sterling is paying for all this.

I really hate this country at times.

Nominated by: Cuntocracy



I would like to cunt christmas in general, and all the lazy work shy fuckwits that are already peddling the excuse ‘its christmas’ for not actually doing what they are paid to do.

Unless you have been to church the preceding 51 Sundays, only an uber cunt would claim they are christian and go along with the whole charade and celebrate accordingly. Its basically just another form of religious terrorism, being forced to give people time off to spend money they don’t have on people they couldn’t give a fuck about, and drink heavily. 3 weeks of productivity down the shitter for me. I loath religion and its fucked up traditions so very, very much.

And don’t get me started on New Year celebrations.


Nominated by: The Captain

Call me Scrooge but I fucking hate Christmas. Kids in general seem to be getting greedier and greedier competing to see who can get the most expensive presents, the latest phones, games consoles etc. My wife spends and spends, like you say money we haven’t got, then its me that has to work all the hours god sends to pay off the debt.

Christmas really is a cunt. Bah Humbug !

Nominated by: Cuntface

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