In a Telegraph article (4th Sep.) ten questions were proffered that you’re not permitted to ask at an interview as a prospective employer. Personally I think some are valid and some are flaky modern-life, millennial, thin-skinned bollocks . Don’t we live in a free society? Are there ‘red flag’ questions the interviewee shouldn’t ask? Is an interview now just one big waste of everybody’s cunty time?

Apparently, whether you’re the Boss or the hiring manager, if you’re going to give somebody your money for doing a job, you can’t ask them about their fucking accent!? Can we ask them if they’re considering spraying bullets about in a demented, voice-in-your-head attack? This might be the shittest ever age in which to live.

The Orwellian grip tightens a bit. Be patient, George. It’s near.

?
1. What year were you born?
2. Do you have any children?
3. Are you physically fit and healthy?
4. Are you in a relationship or married?
5. Have you got any plans to start a family?
6. Where is your accent from?
7. Will you need flexible time for family life?
8. Did you grow up outside the UK?
9. Will you need time off during Half Term?
10. Will you need personal time off for religious holidays?
?

Nominated by Captain Magnanimous

As if society wasn’t growing increasingly ignorant anyway, the world of social media arrives with a perfect platform for the narcissistic, self absorbed, ignorant, sychopantic and just downright shameless.

Journeys to work these days usually involve the hissing of “music” from the headphones of the terrible and soulless Simon Cowell factory or heads down viewing whatever Barry from Blackpool has stuck up his arse the night before.

What’s worse is people I have known personally for years, admittedly some I liked more than others, are constantly using Facebook for their favourite topic, themselves. “Me and me, yeah me again, my feelings, my opinion counts not yours” etc etc etc. They were never this self obsessed before Facebook became a “go to place”.

Not posted anything in three weeks? Consider yourself unfriended. You could be unwell, have personal issues or just taking some time away from the madness. You are off my friends list, particularly for not responding to my post about something I felt self righteous about, even not liking that pic of me pouting like a melted Donald Duck mask, no, unfriended. I don’t care if you had personal stuff going on, I don’t wish to contact you anymore.

What’s happened to people? Then we have Twitter, the dandruff sprinkle on the turd cheesecake of Facebook. Shills and sycophants love Twitter, particularly those who spout their shite about film franchises, video games, tv shows and other guff. Something you are a fan of has gone to shit? These people will do their best to ostracise your opinions. Little worms sucking up to corporate executives for their own shameless benefits. Forget constructive criticism, it’s “haters gonna hate” these days. Cunts the lot of them.

Nominated by Shaun

And this week’s tech gem? A Facebook enabled toothbrush – we shit you not!

Ants (as distinct from Ant of Ant & cunting Dec) are spooky little bastards. They really creep me out, crawling out in droves from cracks in the pavement or under rocks in the garden. Worst is when it’s a really hot, humid day, and they pile out in their thousands, running about like demented ferrets, before the little fuckers with wings swarm into the air, about as welcome as the Luftwaffe over the East End.

It’s the utterly remorseless quality of the wee arseholes that gets me, not to mention their sheer numbers. Give ’em a chance, and they’ll strip the hide off an elephant and leave nothing but a skeleton to bleach in the sun. It’s a mighty good job for us that they aren’t all the size of my fat fucking moggie, or we’d be in real trouble, and no mistake.

PS; Ant & Dec are cunts, as well.
Memo to self; be sure to nip to B&Q soon to get a fucking big tin of ant powder. That’ll learn the cunts.

Nominated by Ron Knee

Manchester City FC: FC as in Fucking Cunts…

The Gorton Globetrotters now have a ‘Gay Pride’ shirt…In other words monetising in Manchester what they prosecute and terrorise in Abu Dhabi… and of course there’s not a word highlighting the hypocrisy from the blue arse-licking Manchester Evening News…

And let’s not even start about Manchester Shitty Council censoring the recent Peterloo anniversary tribute, in case it offended their ay-rab fascist paymasters who also happen to own the blue cunts… Disgraceful….

Nominated by Norman

We’ve all been there, haven’t we?

You get up feeling about as good as you can before three or four cups of coffee and a bacon roll set you up for the day. By lunchtime you feel a bit, well, fatigued for some reason, and by the afternoon you’ve got an irritating, scratchy tickle in your throat. By teatime you’re sneezing for England and your nose is in the first stages of feeling and looking like a blowtorched strawberry. You go to bed feeling like shite, but as soon as you lie flat, you start coughing like a shunting engine and your breathing sounds like a set of asthmatic bagpipes.

You’ve now got no alternative, my friends; you’ve got to resign yourselves to your fate, as I am having to do at this very moment. This is a bullet you can’t dodge, and it’s known as ‘the common cold’. The good news is that you aren’t going to die. The bad news is that for a week or so, it’ll feel as though you are.

Don’t bother going to the quack, he won’t want to know. He’ll send you to the local pharmacy, where they’ll flog you a bottle of some ‘Night Nurse’ type shit, which contrary to what you’ve seen in the adverts, will prove to be as much use as a chocolate poker. You can try those old remedies that your granny always inflicted on you, like gargling with salt water, or (retch) boling an onion and drinking the water, all of which will prove to be equally u/s.

Worst of all, you’ll have to endure being patronised by ‘er indoors; ‘honestly men, get a little cold and you collapse, whereas we women just get on with it’. Yeah, just like you did last time when you spent three fucking days on the sofa. Oh, that was FLU, was it?

No, there’s only one sure way to ease your pain when you’re struck down. Get a large glass of brandy, add a little hot water and sugar, and throw in a large slice of lemon, then get outside of this as quickly as possible, repeating as often as deemed necessary. It won’t actually speed up your recovery, but it’ll make you feel a lot more comfortable in the process.

Modern science has worked many miracles. We’ve created satellites, computers and space stations, we’ve split the atom, discovered antibiotics, put a man on the moon, and goodness knows what else. Why oh why then can we not find a cure for the common fucking cold?

Nominated by Ron Knee