Status Anxiety


Sounds like some sort of new mental health issue for Gen Z and BBC to fret about, but it’s been around for a while and you see it manifested in all sorts of people behaving like cunts. It’s a deep-seated insecurity about your social status which you sometimes project onto thers. It manifests in a number of ways;

‘Do you know who I am?’, or ‘do you know who my husband is?’ is the classic one.

Then there’s people from across the esocio-economic spectrum who give grief to the shop girl or lad at the drive-thru window. and loudly tell their kids ‘this is what happens when you don’t do well at school’, forgetting that half of the kids in supermarkets and fast food places are part time and likely to be studying when they aren’t working..

The women saying these things haven’t worked since they dropped the sprogs and lived off hubby’s income for years as a ‘full-time mum’ (full time apart from the coffee mornings and lunch with other gin enthusiasts), or the bloke saying it is usually in an unglamourous profession himself, perhaps he is a gopher in a builder’s yard or glorified delivery boy.

There’s the people who blow tens of thousands on three week trips to Lanzarote and a new Discovery to ferry the kids to school, then 3 months late go crying to the grandmother for a ‘loan’ because they’re reduced to living on – shock horror – sausages, mince and beans!

Then you have the cunts who have to be seen going to every local event, be it the Festival of Speed, Glorious Goodwood, or the Shoreham airshow (duck!) or any local music festival/ outdoor gig. They can’t just enjoy it, and make sure there are countless photos of them at events all over Fuckbook and ‘ the ‘gram’, usually looking like a cunt.

You also get the ‘eternal student’, who may not have worked at all for years and claimed loans and benefits, but they have a MA in International Relations three years earlier which they’re looking to supplement with either courses in unrelated fields and that makes them better than somebody earning >£60,000 in a trade: they didn’t go to university.

it doesn’t matter that these peopke are in their thirties and can’t afford to run a car ; therir mummy will run them to the train station.

Finally, It’s the aforementioned cunts in minor traffic altercations who think you should know who they are, or who their husband is.

For me, they open themselves up to further humiliation.

‘Some sort of cunt, i imagine’.

Wiki Link.

Nominated by : Cuntamus Prime

67 thoughts on “Status Anxiety

    • Those fucking show offs?!!!

      Who the fuck do the Jones think they are?

      My gates nicer than theirs.

  1. I think you should know your place in life.

    Get out of my way you fuckin peasant!!
    My father’s the laird of Argyle!

    Too many forward types amongst the rabble nowadays.

    Don’t doff their caps or tug their forelocks.

    Vlad the impaler once had a man’s hat nailed to his head for not doffing it in respect.

    That showed him.

    I can’t stand impertinence

  2. Saw a wonderful video of some cop pulling over an entitled little cunt in the states.
    She couldn’t believe he was daring to give her a ticket.

    Entitled cunt: “Do you know who my father is”!

    Cop: “Did your mother never tell you”?

    The look of shock on her face was priceless.

  3. Giving people grandiose job titles to boost their sense of self-worth is another facet of this. Everyone has to be a ‘manager of this’ or ‘director of that’ these days.

    I know a bloke who doesn’t suffer status anxiety as he’s had a very successful career in the waste management logistics industry.

    He’s a bin man.

    • A refuge disposable officer, also. I was an oiler and greaser. Didn’t want to get above my station with the specific title of Lubrication Engineer.

    • adding ‘executive’ is the usual trick.

      Sales ‘executives’ on £12k a year cold calling pensioners from an industrial estate in the Portsmouth-Fareham-Southampton metroland.

  4. Do you know who I am?’ I say that alot..

    But I do regular public speaking at the Alzheimer’s Society..

  5. I heard a story about Tony Blair who said when visiting a care home as PM asked a resident “Do you know who I am”. She replied, “no dear, best ask the nurse I am sure she will help you”.

  6. I have met the type many times. The rear and upper echelons of the British Army of full of nasty, insecure little cunts like this. I everyday life I Just smile sweetly and walk away, whilst muttering loudly “wow what a cunt”.

  7. My status as COTY (X2) carries not just privilege and pomp but a lot of stress and responsibilities.

    Like a fucking anvil on my back.

    But I persevere.
    Have any of you shagsacks had to carry out a duty with a stately title?

  8. Hey CP, easy on the single moms.

    It plays havoc with their back, all that bending down to put in another DVD, after sending the kids to bed on trumped up charges so they can have a glass of Chardonnay.

    cf Bill Burr.

    • As Bill says, you can bet the guys on fire on the Deepwater Horizon jumping into the sea (also on fire) were just thankful they weren’t full-time mums.

  9. Compared with today’s ignorant cunts, we had fuck all and were happy to have a meal on the table, making sure we weren’t too extravagant with what our Ration Book could allow. You know the rest. It kept me in good stead even since.

    • But did you live in a caravan for 6 months before you could move in to a house?

      • Caravan?
        We used to dream of living in a caravan.
        Luxury!
        We lived in a pothole on the Preston Bypass.

      • Bemused by your answer. Did I give you the idea we lived in a caravan because we were skint and lived on Ration Books ? It was the 40s remember.

  10. I’m bored.
    Sat in the van waiting for the keys for a property.

    If anyone wants to put pictures off their missus topless on here Admin will permit it?

  11. All true but i bet my watch is better than all you cunters watches. Do you know who i am?

      • Me neither.

        Fuck watches.
        I have a sundial in the garden
        And a grandfather clock (antique) in the house.

        Outside of that I demand to know the time off passersby.

        You there!
        I say, you there!
        Tell me the time immediately!
        I’m very important.
        Much more so than you.
        Don’t stand there slackjawed be quick about it!

        Manners cost nothing

    • Watch? Haven’t worn one for years.

      My pince-nez are absolutely capital though.

  12. Bouncer blocking some idiot from getting entry to a club ,idiot starts mouthing off to the bouncer, “do you know WHO I AM”?
    Bouncer says to his mate , we’ve got a geezer here who doesn’t know who he is………coat…………

  13. To put things into perspective, I cannot stand cunts like this. To be fair, with a bit of self-reflection, I was one and a deeply unhappy person. I earned a load of money, gave it large left, right, and centre, and for what? For my other half and my closest friends to tell me I was a prick. That was a bloody horrible moment. I felt sick.

    I’ve moaned on here in the past about self-employment being a right bastard this year. Recently, I threw in the towel after all these years, and all the stress of 2023 and 2024. I’m back on civvy street now with regular working hours and a 09:00-17:00 (08:00-16:00, whatever). I couldn’t be happier.

    Ultimately, be happy with your lot. Nobody gives a fuck if you’re loaded, or haven’t got a pot to piss in. As long as you remain a decent person, that’s all that counts. The people who matter will stick around. That’s the lesson I’ve learned this year.

    • I feel you lol.

      Self employed my whole life, seems like the Gov don’t like the freedom and money it gives you, and either make it hard with bullshit paperwork or try and call you a criminal for earning a crust.

      Fuck em. Fuck em all.

      • Nope. Although, it wasn’t just being fucked up the arse with bureaucracy and tax; something that will almost not certainly get easier with the incoming Labour government.

        It was more the fact that a load of the people I started being self-employed alongside also threw in the towel. AI was adopted by a few clients. Given all the decent people I worked with have gone back to civvy street, they’ve been replaced by “business development” types.

        Oh well. It was nice whilst it lasted.

  14. Status anxiety?
    Fuck them.
    The secret is breathing.
    Take my tip.
    It’s a well known fact.
    Breathe in, breathe out.
    Take a chance, let yourself go.
    A Mini Countryman, a day’s fishing, mow the lawn,
    Tea in Fullers, a library book from Boots,
    What can you lose?
    Good aftermorning.

  15. When anyone says “do you know who I am?”, I am always reminded of the Harry Enfield sketch ‘Call Me Wanker’.

  16. The header picture is a wet behind the ears and bound to get that smirk wiped off eventually. Love to see it happen.

    • Looks like a pubescent david millipede, not that he ever went through puberty..

  17. Also, Goodwood Festival of Speed and Gouty Goodwood are fucking awful events!

    I’d rather drink piss than go to either.

    • Shiny waistcoats and fake tan wankers at the Glorious Goodwood borefest. They’re too pissed to get off the coach before even getting to place a bet.

  18. Went through a bad patch, endedup being a factory cleaner for a while, the bogs on Monday after the weekend shifts were something to behold. I called myself a Hygiene and Sanitary Engineer, better ring to it than Shit House Ceaner.

    • I’ve had good jobs and I’ve had shit jobs. I cared about the money, not what people thought. I was the same person whether i was working in an office or sweeping up. I don’t judge a bloke by his occupation any more than I judge him by his skin colour or where he likes to put his dick. People who do this aren’t worth bothering with.

  19. I just read your nom again Cuntamus and I notice your mention of the arseholes who are condescending towards the youngsters on the checkout in the supermarkets. I noticed this many years ago and thought as you say half these kids are studying and will reach a level you prats will never attain. It occurred to me that some of the kids would go into medicine and may be treating these prats in years to come. When our elder was in the sixth form she did some part time work at Tesco’s and occasionally was in receipt of some of this attitude. She became a doctor.

    • Did she go into General Practice or Specialise?

      Either way, good on her.

      • Thanks Cuntamus. She hasn’t specialised, she’s floated around for years as a locum, worked in Derby, Hampshire and Dorset that I know of but she now seems to have settled down in Devon. She gave GP a go but she found it quite frustrating. Main problem was patients who didn’t follow the advice she offered and then returned with the same symptoms. She felt like asking them why they bothered to make an appointment. We heard from her this very day actually that she has taken a permanent position as one of two doctors running an eighteen-bed community hospital in a small town down there. She tells us it will be a doddle after the constant pressure and running around as a locum.

  20. Is the chap mentioned in the Wiki link related to
    Anal de Bottom by any chance?

  21. Strange thing I’ve noticed with some young lads who play Sunday league football and act as if they’re a star of the Premier league.

    Mercedes A class on Finance, trophy girlfriend with perma tan, lips like she’s had an allergic reaction to something and a French bull dog.

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