I would like to nominate the UN for it’s insidious plan to take the control of mass migration away from sovereign states and put them firmly into it’s own Soros fuelled hands.

Moreover it aims to make dissent against this open door policy from every 3rd world shithole into the West illegal under the guise of human rights.

This video explains it far better than I ever could.

It’s a disgrace with only strong leaders like Trump and Orban publicly stating that they will NOT sign up to it, while weaklings like cuckold Trudeau show immediate support to transform their nations into 3rd world shitholes safe in the knowledge that their lives will be unaffected and that the “imports” guarantee them power in a “hand outs for votes” stitch-up.

What will Mavis do?

Will this globalist madness ever end!

Cunts!

Nominated by Rebel without a Cunt!

The Shite Girls

In the words of Maggie Thatcher, ‘rejoice, rejoice!’. Yes, after an absence of some twenty years, The Spice Girls are reforming and going on tour in the UK.

Naturally the announcement has been accompanied by a massive publicity blitz and media circus, during which the pop poppets have been making weighty pronouncements of their new artistic philosophy to a panting world. Emma Bunton says that ‘girl power’ is now out; ‘it’s now people power, we’re about equality and bringing people together’. An’ stuff. Oh, and about MAKING LOADSA MONEY. It’s expected that Spice Communiques will be issued on a regular basis, offering the girls’ views on subjects such as climate change, the environment and world poverty, but perhaps not about how they’re MAKING LOADSA MONEY.

This wonderful news has been tinged with sadness and tragedy. ‘Thicky’ Adams, the artiste formerly known as ‘Posh’, will not be taking part in the reunion, it being universally acknowledged that her enormous vocal ability will be greatly missed. Posh has confirmed that she’ll be concentrating her talents on her ‘nerve-wracking and all-consuming’ fashion career, pursuing her devotion to ’empowering women through fashion’. Oh, and to MAKING LOADSA MONEY.

Any chance that you could do us a favour and considerably extend the tour girls? Take your cynical, vacuous, shallow selves, and the manufactured plastic pap you’ve got the nerve to call music, and fuck off to desirable destinations such as the Yemen, Syria, North Korea and Afghanistan. With any luck, you’ll be taken hostage for a very, very long time. Now THAT’S what I want, what I really, really want…

Nominated by Ron Knee

John Chau is a cunt.
This idiot decided he needed to spread the word of God to an isolated tribe on a protected island off India somewhere. The dopey cunt had to bribe some fishermen to take him to this where this tribe live like Stone Age fuckers, all spears and grass skirts type of thing, where bible crazy John would introduce them to the enlightened word of his lord. Forget the fact that it is forbidden to interact with these people, whose last contact with the modern world was them firing arrows at a helicopter that had been sent to check on them after the 2004 tsunami. Forget the fact that John couldn’t speak a word of the no doubt pops and clicks that make up their language. And, forget the fact that the dull cunt had already tried to make contact with them, only to be chased of the island, with his trusty bible, which was covering his heart, taking a direct hit from an arrow. Disciple John returned the next day, with gifts of fish and footballs (what the fuck!), only to be rewarded with a broadside of arrows, this time missing his bible, and killing the silly cunt. This must make him a sure thing for this years Darwin awards.

Nominated by Gutstick Japseye Dr

Let me introduce you to Bleary Eyes, who lives on Watership Down and may or may not be a rabbit, it’s hard to tell. Head twice the right size, eyes bulging and sightless, coat motheaten, can barely hop. Slime oozing from every orifice, and not long for this world, Bleary Eyes, who has myxomatosis, is a dead ringer for the Common Cold patient, and specifically for me last night as my nose couldn’t work out whether to pour litres of mucus on the sheets or down my throat, the latter producing sensations of strangulation which made sleep an unattainable fantasy.

Feeble coughing, necessitated by having a ball of barbed wire in my lung and not wanting to disturb it, merely brings a mass of partially-set gluey snot to larynx level from which it snaps back into the killing zone, or very occasionally fires it clean into the fan heater. Even Kleenex Person-size only absorbs a quarter of what emerges should you further inflame your nose by blowing it once. Fuck, here goes with the dishcloth.

No position is comfortable for the CC victim. Whose own nose-snorkelling noises like an old man drowning (too close to the truth, that, but it will serve) and coughing like a struggling sheep attacked with CS gas, combine with the awareness that the symptoms are getting worse and you may not make it to A&E before double pneumonia sets in.

It’s not bloody funny. No it isn’t. Shut up. It’s a cunt, that’s what it is.

Nominated by Komodo