Car Stereos

In car stereo/boomboxes.
It’s that time of year, gets a bit warm and you can bet your life someone wants to announce their cuntishness.
You hear them before you can see them. Usually a crappy Corsa, Fiesta or Focus exuding a fucking awful noise thumping away.
When you see the culprit, it is probably a specimen of the under-class, culturally appropriating something of African American origin blaring out of an open car window.
Why bother with the sound system, why not show the world what an A1 Cunt you and put a neon sign on the car roof proudly stating: CUNT!
It would save all our eardrums from the total auditory shite issuing from the car.
Secondly, but maybe equal to these pricks, are the mongs who park up outside your house and dock their smart phones into the loud speaker system and carry on a long and boring conversation, blissfully unaware that anyone can hear the fucking drivel from both parties in a 20 yard radius.
Absolute cunts all of them.

Nominated by Cuntalugs

20 thoughts on “Car Stereos

  1. I have never yet heard good music coming from an open car window and I haven’t once heard someone else’s phone conversation that was interesting.
    Doesn’t this say everything about those who need to make a noise to get attention?

  2. Special cunting for today… Druids…. Piss taking scroungers with dogs on clothes line leads…. The only fucking day of the year they get out of bed before noon…. Fuck right off you dirty smelly hippy cunts….

    • ‘Druids…..you dirty smelly hippy cunts….’
      They’re cunts, all right, but Masonic cunts, not hippies, and are as fucking ‘ancient’ as the late 1700’s, close on 1700 years after the massacre of the last ‘real’ Druids by the Romans on Angelsey..

      Again, yes, cunts to a man, deserving of a double cunting as Stonehenge had fuck all to do with the Druids that they like to go all dressy-up and pretend to be..

    • My mate works for TfL (they should be subject to their own special cunting), and some women gets time off on the 21st June as being a druid, or however you describe it, is her “religion”. I might dress as a Roman Centurion and go and slay her. Fucking idiots – her and TfL for putting up with this nonsense.

  3. There’s a whole cunt industry around making your car as offensive as possible, and it caters to men with very small genitals. You ‘need’ oxygen-free cables throughout. You ‘need’ an uprated alternator to cope with the extra power. Must entertainingly, you ‘need’ a smoothing capacitor – ‘scuse me if I get technical – across the power supply to deal with electronic noise contaminating the experience ( already well suppressed by any half-decent stereo) This has a digital voltmeter attached, but even if it were reading differently from the battery voltage, and it won’t be, it’s too big to put anywhere but in the boot, where you can’t see it.
    Needless to say, all this whizzo cuntery can do fuck-all about the various resonant rattles and buzzes of the car itself, the fact that at 120dBA, your hearing’s shutting down anyway, and the rattling of your teeth under the sonic impact. About all it does is drown out the horns and curses of the motorists stuck near you at the lights.

    Also obligatory are a straight-through silencer, decals, extra lights and a hatred of decent music.

    There’s one outside now. CUNT.

    • Christ. Three of the cunts in the last 15 minutes. Whiny masspop, rap and god knows what. Ice cream van imminent. It’s only a backstreet, too.

    • Admit it Komodo…..we’re not fooled again. You’re clearly running a boom box installation business from your home. You know a hellova lot about the technology there. Don’t blame you – charge the Cupid Stunts a fortune.

  4. My first car stereo was a cassette player, not a radio cassette player, just a cassette player, it sat under the dash of my ford escort mk1 (painted black with gold lines and two little rubber aerials on the rear for effect).
    Well the eject button didn’t work I had about a year’s worth of driving to the sound of ,” simple minds live in the city of light”.
    Never told anyone I couldn’t get the tape out, people just assumed I was keen on simple minds.
    One lesson I did learn though was that Cortina wheels do fit on escorts but your road handling goes to shit round wet corners and so it died.

    • Shame, Lord Benny. Your humble MK1 Escort would be worth a bob or several nowadays.

  5. I can’t be that ugly. After all i did come second in a George Clooney look-a-like contest.

    Rory Stewart came first

    • I got mistook for Justin Timberlake one time by a barmaid while holidaying in Rhyl.

  6. I had the speakers nicked from the parcel shelf of my Capri 3000E.

    Was pissed off but was more insulted as I’d left a jacket on the back seat that they’d clearly had a look at, but left behind.
    No style cunts….

    Had a Mk2 1600E Cortina before the Capri which you could unlock and start with a screwdriver….

    • yep the nylon thread on the gearstick used to go on them, I had a mate who did an overzealous gear change and the stick came out in his hand.
      I also had another mate who towed someone else in his capri using a rope round his rear axle, it crimped the brake pipes making emergency stops very interesting.

    • My Dad went off one one at my brother as he had locked his keys in the Cortina. Brother went off to local bar and asked if anyone had a Coritna, and could he borrow the keys for a bit – he then went and unlocked Dad’s car. I think my brother was 12 at the time.

      • My mum once went shopping in her 80’s Toyota Starlet and came back in somebody else’s, almost identical, car. Even the reg was similar.

      • It was only the key holding the ignition barrel of my cortina together, so I couldn’t remove it. I used to tie parcel banding tape to the rear bumper, to break into it. Also, it was four fifths filler, and the steering rack so fucked, it was like driving a galleon. Fucking loved that car…..

    • Loved my Capri. Loved the fact u cud open the door with a screwdriver, fuck the need for a key to get in.

      Loved the bonnet, it was like driving a sofa bed in front of you along the motorway.

      Loved the errant cornering, where you had to plan an escape route strategy either side of the road in case it wouldn’t make it round.

      Modern cars have been cunted before, so boring now, compared to the proper motoring era of chokes, drum brakes with the stopping power of a paper bag and steering that needed 2 hands to turn the wheel.

      Where would the snowflakes of today be, other than sobbing in the driveway waiting for an AA van?

  7. Noisy inconsiderate cunts, all the money they spend on gear, then listen to music that sounds like the speakers are fucked anyway, all electronic squeaks and farts. I fucking despise these pricks with every fibre of my being.

  8. More noise pollution to add to the cunts rabbiting out loud on the phones while walking down the street blissfully unaware of what is going on around them.

    Shame someone can’t park their car outside some cunt’s house, windows down and giving it a real “volume up to 11” blast on a real car stereo while the cunt is still sleeping at 2 in the afternoon – scare the shit out of him!

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