Over Sharers

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I want to cunt over-sharers.
Those people who talk loudly in public about things (usually bodily functions) that we’d rather not hear about.

For example, the other day whilst I’m queuing at the checkout in a supermarket, a woman and her two daughters are behind me. The oldest daughter who looks to be in her late teens or early twenties, then starts talking about her monthly cycle and how this month its much heavier than usual – she was a little more graphic than this, but I’ll spare you the information or else I’ll be a victim of my own cunting.

Menstruating is nothing to be ashamed of, after all its a natural process, but do you really have to tell everyone about how you need more sanitary products this month because its a particularly heavy month. Put me right off my spag bol.

Same with adverts. Do we really need adverts about “leakage”?
Males as well as females apparently.

Like those awful v.i. poo adverts with some aspiring hollywood tart talking about how her shit stinks. Is it all really necessary?

Nominated by Harold Steptoe

35 thoughts on “Over Sharers”

    • No, but if you ask Krav or MPG they might have a look for you.😏

      There’s also a guy called Jim in Leicester, who sells industrial washing machines and can also set you up with “special” wash powder,.who might be willing to take a look.

      • Cheers lads! I’ll pop over to Jims see if he can make sense of it!
        Also my harris is incredibly itchy, do you think hed take a look?

      • He would do that tradesman thing of scratching his head with a pencil then a sharp intake of breath, “Mmm, itchy harris eh? Iv got a sandpaper dildo in the back of the van”.

      • Been round Jims, turns out nothing to worry about just got worms again.
        He found his wedding ring though from the last time!
        Reckons he can get dishwashers as well but turned out to be a 14yr old recently defrosted vietnamese girl.

  2. This is what happens when one consorts with common people. I go to extraordinary lengths to avoid having to.

  3. My Names Jim I sell washers
    Would you like a sniff of this and we can go for a spin
    I like bareback riding and decorating in the buff If you need a UK Passport I know someone who can help his name is Mandy

  4. These scumbags you talk of have not one iota of decency/ decorum/ manners/. They think the world revolves around them. It’s all about meee. The cunts.

  5. The whole lingo of those kind of ads pisses me off; “wee”, “poo” – what are we, fucking five??? Also the new generation of fanny rag adverts as well, we seem to moving away from the old beaker full of antifreeze being poured into one of said rags in lieu of a torrent of clotted snatch excrescence; instead we now see some tennis-playing tart’s (admittedly magnificent) arse being flaunted at the camera because the wimminz now all head to Wimbledon or going kayakking or climbing fucking Ben Nevis when they’re on the rag, instead of the usual practise of crying under the duvet with a family pack of Magnums

    • WOOOOAH! BODYFORHMMM!

      I remember a woman jumping out of a plane in an advert, when the reality is more sat under a blanket with a hot water bottle.

  6. May I add that there are few things worse than bumping into an old fart and hearing all their ailments. A long list of aches, pains, groin operations, absolutely no detail withheld and absolutely shame. Have they been to a Dr? Ooh, no, no, dont want to go there.
    Cunt-bergs.

  7. These type of averts always seem to come on at teatime , usually two or three in the same break. Incontinence and leaks, empowered wimminz kickboxing or some shit when they are on the blob, pet flea treatment and the other day, erectile disfunction ffs.

  8. The cunts you meet in everyday situations think the world revolves around them. They have no sense of decorum/ politeness/ or any other thing that puts us above the apes. They are below shite.

  9. Well thats enough listening to you moaning fuckers, its a beautiful day, im off with family & dog to the peak district for sunday roast and a few ales.
    Play nice and dont let Jim touch yer bum.😬

  11. In other news, my eyes glanced over an article where Gemma Collins wants to be the next Bond Girl.

    It’s not April 1st already is it?

  13. I find myself diving for the remote control more and more frequently these days. If it’s not some bint who’s informing us that she pishes herself after pushing her sprog out, it’s some shite “comedienne” waffling on about “vaginal dryness” or something about jam rags or periods,or “bacterial vaginosis” just as I’m about to tuck into my lasagne.

    • My old man came round the other day to scrounge some tools and he told me he was going to the the Wolves vs Villa game . I hit the fucking roof. I don’t want to hear about them cunts in my fucking garage.

    • What’s wrong with fannies these days? Either they’re too wet or too dry. They’re selling pads with more absorption power or they’re trying to flog you crack moisturiser. Is this something to do with Brexit? It didn’t used to be like that, they used to be quite dry so you tickled them a bit. Things are so much more complicated these days.

  14. I’d prefer to listen to descriptions of bowel movements and ragtime, etc. than the cunts who think the world is their therapist and express their stupid fucking feelings in minute detail, especially if it has anything to do with what someone said/did on Cuntbook/Twatter/etc.; carrying on like fucking 15 year olds.

  15. I am so upset by this cunting that I have made an appointment for therapy. I think the problem goes back to when Mother stopped me chewing my teddy bear, and I read somewhere this is a significant cause of trauma. Or maybe it’s all that oestrogen I’m taking to transition? I found a video on Youtube which explains why I get very emotional when I am explaining my feelings …*sob*….no, please don’t go away and give me feelings of rejection….

    …cunting endorsed.

  16. I think the worst thing that was shared with me, was a friend of a friend (about 15 years ago) telling me about winding his ex-bird up.

    He wanted to wake her up by farting in her face. He said he had a big one brewing and crouched with his arse over her face. He said he called her name and as she opened her eyes he let rip with all his might….and followed through all over her face.

    That was the end of that ‘romance’.

    Sorry for sharing.

  17. Cycles? No wonder some women are fat if they only cycle once a month. They need to ride their bicycles weekly at least.

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