are cunts.
I’m a miserable cunt, bitter about the world and everyone in it. I have to work 7 days of the week to keep a business running, dealing with bullshit from staff and customers on a daily basis. This is while living in a country run by Stalinists who want to fuck me for all the tax they can get (and give to workshy scum of all shades), and who want to tell me I’m an evil capitalist exploiter and I should be allowed to be sued at every opportunity by lazy narcissistic tribunal trigger happy arseholes who are empowered to cause businesses endless stress whilst simultaneously complaining there’s no jobs out there. I am surrounded by lefty cunts who want to hector me about how I need to be kind to trannies, darkies, carpet kissers, immos, neuro diverse skivers, eco grifters and hirsute dungaree wearing lesbian wheelchair users.
The result of this deeply hate filled relationship with life is that, in the tiny moments of privacy I enjoy away from all of this bullshit, I want to do just what the fuck I want and not be beholden to any cunt. I want to choose where I want to be, who I want to be there with, what I want to spend my money on, what conversations I want to have and with whom, AND what crap I want to acquire for my enjoyment.
This is why I not only do not like receiving gifts from people, I positively fucking resent it. I am writing this on a Sunday morning when I have a rare opportunity to have a coffee and have some playtime on isacunt without anyone bothering me. I’m dressed only in my tattered grundies, I’m unwashed, a shocking fucking mess, and I don’t give a fuck. But one of my members of staff messages me and asks if I’m at home. What the fuck. I ask the missus what this is about, she looks guilty. She realises that she was chatting to the employee in question on Friday as he was going to London on the weekend where his brother in law is a chef in an upmarket restaurant, and he produces some top notch cakes which she politely said sounded wonderful. So, at 8.30am on the one day of the week when I might be expected to get some rest and peace and quiet, the demand is being made of me to get up, throw on some clothes, and be all fake happy and grateful. Fuck that, I’m not doing it. I said to him leave it on the doorstep, sorry I’m not in a state to receive you. He quietly drops the parcel off, a Harrods bag with cake and all sorts of goodies in it, and quietly slopes off. The missus goes and retrieves it and shows me what a cunt I am for not even managing to go and say thanks to him.
So I have, without consultation, been put in the invidious position of either doing something I don’t want to do on my morning off, or being a rude and ungrateful cunt. All for some additional shit in my life that I neither asked for nor wanted.
Whenever anyone gives me a gift I don’t fucking want it, and I consider it an arrogant liberty to demand I pretend to be happy and grateful for this gross imposition on my misery. Take your fucking gifts and stick them up your arses, I’m not gonna be happy and grateful for any cunt.
Nominated by Balsamic Dave.
Only 99 sleeps until Christmas.
6
An excellent rant, BD!
No good deed goes unpunished, ’tis true…hence I wouldn’t dream of doing anything for anyone (except for my kids, obviously).
All my mates and I want from each other is friendship and no-one asks anything of each other beyond attending parents’ funerals.
BD…can you do what the CEO of my company does? He lives in America (I most run things here in leafy Oxfordshire) and comes back for a week every 2 or 3 months to shout at people and treat them with contempt, sometimes giving me leeway to fire some cunt who turned out to be useless.
Firing an indolent, recalcitrant waster is particularly cathartic, especially if you can find a way of accusing them of gross misconduct.
4
But what do you do if the waster is black Tom?
4
Wash your norrf an’ saaarf aaaht with soap, arfur.
As I do most of the interviewing, can you imagine who gets employed?!
Whites and Poles.
Our business is proudly darkıe-free and, God willing, always will be!
6
Forgive me Tom, I had forgotten that fact.
4
We do get loads of CV’s from 3rd worlders, but they get filed straight in the bin.
4
There where lots of hamshankisms to make me ill.
1
I made a balls up. Were.
1
That “where” Sammy, is that your mistake or spellcheck or good old fashioned sarcasm?
1
Got in a minute ahead of me!
1
Oh, I love surprises.
Especially those unsolicited emails that invite me to
” click here to open your free gift!”
Fuck off!
You’re blocked.
5
You must have a draw full of pens from SunLife, JP.
4
So I do, LL.
2
” Hey!
take your fuckin cake with you!
cunt.”
5
I received a dog turd wrapped in paper through the letterbox with a note.
” EAT THIS AND CHOKE YOU CUNT!!
typically it was the wrong colour.
and wasn’t even fresh.
4
Am I right in thinking, Mis. That you’ve never seen white dog shit ?
1
If people give cake without thinking, you’re entitled to complain about not eating sweet shite.
0
What about, you’ve done such a wonderful job, my misses would allow you to fuck her.
0
Oh how I long for those days when the news media reported on those fellows sharing the gift that is Monkeypox..
Another gift snatched away as the media turns its attention elsewhere,like why King Charles is a cunt etc.
1
What about, you’ve done such a wonderful job, here’s a thousand quid for your effort. Oops ! Sorry, I just realised you’re a miserable cunt and wouldn’t dare annoy you.
0
I used to love the free gifts that you got with comics. The Beezer, Beano, Buster and so on. Folded card and brown paper for a wicked bang to frighten teacher, a plastic hopping spider, a toy paratrooper with a polythene parachute, and a thing that fired flying saucers. All totally brilliant, They never gave away a catapult like Dennis the Menace used, but there was a once ripping pea shooter. More innocent times. Kids nowadays would think that they were for shoving up their arses.
0
I gifted Dave Mustaine a paperback copy of Frederick Forsyth’s ‘The Fist of God’ on MY frikken’ birthday in 2007.
Explained to him if he read chapter 1 right through, he’d then read all 600 pages.
Dunno if he ever did.
As for BD’s unwanted gifts problem, that’s easily sorted. Have nothing whatsoever to do with anyone unecessary on a personal level, ever.
Worked for me! You have to commit, though. The method provides a heap of other benefits too. Time burned at weddings, funerals, parties etc. out of politeness or whatever? … Nope!
And so on … 🙂
0