Beggars are cunts.

Our high street is full of beggars lolling in shop doorways, making the place look like a giant doss house. I find my self having to cross from side to side to avoid their put on, whimpering refrain ‘Spare some change, please’ We all know that they are organised scammers with an aversion to fucking soap. They also frighten old ladies and small children.

Some cunt told me that they may have hi-tech equipment hidden under their stinking bedding that can clone credit cards if you get too close. I din;t know if this is true but I wouldn’t put it past them.

I am a generally tolerant sort of chap as fellow cunters will know, so I sometimes give to buskers who strum a tune that I recognise, or can do balancing on their hands, or perhaps juggle competently. However, cunts who expect something for nothing can fuck off. Do a fucking dance or something, just don’t expect my hard earned cash for doing jack shit.

Fuck off.

Nominated by: Twenty Thousand Cunts Under the Sea

and this from Cuntstable Cuntbubble

During lockdown I have taken up begging to make ends meet. My wife drops me off in the 4x 4 round the corner from where I slump in a doorway. A miserable wretch of a man. Most people walk by. I get the occasional coin and by the end of the day I can clear about £75. Not much to show for a hard day’s slumping but needs must as they say.
However, there is one cunt who zigzags down the highstreet and if he inadvertently passes me expects me to fucking Riverdance for a measly 50P, the tight fisted twat.
Worra cunt.