It must be about time to cunt Julian Assange again, and add one to his surprisingly low score of cuntings (3). The pallid shitstirring Australian phony has shafted his friends, stolen data and is still evading justice in plain sight. It’s not as if his release of gigabytes of mildly sensitive classified material has actually changed anything other than get him the odd headline, though perhaps it did contribute a little to Trump’s election victory by adding a small turd to Hillary’s bouquet of shite. For all the publicity, and for all the adoration of the flaccid-left snowflake tendency, he’s been pretty fucking useless at doing what he says he’s trying to do.

And there he is, still squatting in the Ecuadoran Embassy – the only place that would have him after jumping bail (not his money, but his friends’) and running for cover. The Swedish rape case has been dropped, but the fact remains he broke UK bail conditions while it was current, and while he was being detained with a view to extraditing him. So the police have a legitimate interest in feeling his collar.

To cut to the chase…or in this case, the stay-put. After having been treated very honourably by the Ecuadoran staff, given apparently rent-free accommodation, Internet connection to pursue his self-aggrandising schemes, and even a cat, the Embassy decided that it really couldn’t permit a political propagandist to operate from diplomatic territory, cut off the internet and later made some rules for Assange to follow as a condition of its restoration. These included not behaving like a 14-year-old in a tantrum (admittedly Assache always behaves like this), keeping his room clean and looking after the fucking cat, por el amor de Dios.

At which Assange announces that he is going to sue his voluntary hosts (six bloody years, they’ve had to put up with him) for breach of his human rights. Apparently, he’s in captivity, and not being accorded the respectful attention to which he is entitled.

But he isn’t. It’s entirely his own choice that he’s there. He is absolutely free to walk out of the front door. Granted, he’ll be captured within seconds, and possibly imprisoned (genuinely) for the bail offence, but I am quite sure the Met will observe his human rights to the letter, and what happens later, if he is right about the US wanting a little chat with him regarding its state secrets, is no concern of mine. He’s a cunt, and a cunt’s just desserts are long overdue to him. Which might well involve karmic rape.

And it would save us several million in policing the cunt.

Nominated by Komodo