Pointless Posh `explorers’ With No Sense of Direction

Another day, another prattish posho with a chiselled jaw but no sense of direction is pointlessly wandering around Antartica, trying to do what exactly? Ben Saunders, 40, (40! He’s too bloody old for this nonsense!) is apparently `perilously close to running out of food’ and his family back in Blighty are frantic with worry.

Bizarrely, he is making this futile foray into the wilderness `in memory’ of his friend, fellow pointless explorer Colonel Henry Worsley, who died wandering round the South Pole trying to break some kind of record in 2016, leaving behind a widow and 2 children.

He follows hot on the heels of Benedict Allen who cunted off to find a lost tribe without any GPS equipment or a phone. Never mind the fact his wife and young kids were frantic with worry: he apparently deliberately went walkabout in an ‘old school’ manner as he wanted some alone time and ‘space’.

Typical bloody man. Why not just go to the pub like a normal person? Or get a shed?

A friend told a newspaper: ‘For people like Ben it’s about finding out more about yourself.’

He’s 57! If he doesn’t yet know himself, he never will. Explorers are supposed to be interested in the world, not their own navel.

Meanwhile, Sir Ranulph Fiennes was feted by the press for having to chop his own fingers off after getting frostbite while climbing a mountain somewhere. It’s not heroic, it’s stupid!

In 2003, Steven Boultby Brooks and his pal Quentin Smith were trying to break a ridiculous record for something and had to be rescued in Antartica by the Royal Navy after crashing their helicopter into the sea. And don’t get me started on Mark Thatcher.

`Exploring’ is just an excuse for under-employed old Etonians with trustfunds and mid-life crises to stumble around the planet before being rescued by plebs at the tax payers expense.

None of these cunts has a sense of direction that matches their sense of entitlement. Why are we even bothering to rescue them in the first place?

Nominated by Caro

Why’s everyone moaning about this presidents club dinner at the Dorchester?

Women often use sex to get what they want.
Men use money and power to get what they want.
Any woman that says that she hasn’t used her “charms” on a man before to get what she wants is a fucking liar.

And that was the fucking point. The reason those girls were there was to get the leering old drunks to dig deeper and cough up more. Funny how some guys are prone to spending shite loads of dough as soon as they think it’s gonna impress a pretty girl.
It always works.
That’s why these tactics are employed.

Women utilise this male weakness all the time but that’s ok. As long as the moment that they get what they want, the men put their dicks on ice and go back to sucking up, being sensitive to their feelings and listening to their stupid mother fucking problems.

Women spend all their time tarting themselves up and turning themselves into objects of desire.

Every fucking women’s film that you watch is all about getting a man and sex sex sex.

Every women’s magazine is about how to look good, how to lose weight and how to get a man. (Apart from all the usual gossip and bitchiness about other women that is).

Women are just as obsessed with sex as men, probably more, and if they don’t want men to notice them then why to they take so much effort to look attractive to men.

And another thing.

Could you image a women’s only event with hunks walking round? I guarantee that they would be 100 times worse behaved than any man.
I remember a few years ago at a friend’s birthday party. Her friends decided to get her a stripper. Man, I’ve never seen a more perverted and unruly hoard in my life. They immediately turned into animals and if any men had been half as bad as that, they’d have been locked up.

I’m not saying that women should be treated as objects but if you go to work at one of these things, get told to dress sexy, get told what underwear to put on, what the fuck do you expect from a bunch of drunk old cunts?
What did these women think they were being hired for?

And now we have the usual short haired old women coming out and bleating:
“What, using sex to get money? What kind of cunt would do that?”
Oh apart from the advertising industry, movie industry, music industry, media, tv, fashion and just about every fucking industry on earth.

These same cunts would think that Miley Cyrus acting a slut to get their daughters pocket money is empowering, then act horrified when women use their “talents” to get more money from rich old drunks .

It’s just pc bollocks and it’s the usual “feminist” crowd making a fuss.

No woman should be sexually harassed if she’s not interested. That kind of behaviour is deplorable. Cunts like Harvey Wankstain should be ashamed.

But let’s not forget that women and all industries use sex to get what they want all the time and this is not some ground breaking scandal.

Some men are perverts and some women are slags. Big fuckin whoop.

Nominated by Deploy the Sausage

( In case you’re wondering why this makes the Presidents Club cunts, it’s because they’ve caved by bowing out of further events. Fucking pussies! )

TV FOOTBALL PUNDITS – SHOWER OF CUNTS

Here we have selected thick football cunts post-career trying to cling on to something by talking about football.

“Well, it was a game of two halves, he made a string of passes down the flank, passed to the guy in front of the net, shoots, and it was saved by the keeper…”

WHO CARES, what a collective of boring, offensively rich jelly headed cunts this lot are, what else are they going to fucking say that hasn’t been said 500 fucking billion times before? And then when the cunts start fucking around with that cuntish on-screen graphics thing with the arrows and that – LEAVE IT ALONE YOU CUNTS, we don’t want to watch the fucking match again frame by frame – we’ve already been here for TWO FUCKING HOURS watching these cunts kick a football around, and now you wife-cheating, Rolex wearing, side-parting multi millionaire cunts are going on and on about the possibilities that may have been if he hadn’t hit the cunting post or how many passes did one side make in the first half, who had the most possession (I KNOW WHO HAD THE MOST POSSESSION YOU CUNTS I WATCHED THE FUCKING GAME) – in fact there’s nothing they can tell us that we don’t already know, apart from how many hundred £10K blackjack chips they lost at The Grosvenor last night, when they were out with a load of brass whilst their 21 year-old blonde cunt of a wife is at home on the Bolly with a load of her cuntish, air-headed, Ferrari driving, aunt-sally, harridan mates.

Take Paul Scholes – here we have a classic cunty-transmogrification from someone who was basically well regarded as one of the best footballers in the world, then suddenly, he starts fucking popping up on football TV – talking a load of monotone Oldham drivel, “Er… I think maybe they would have won if the scoreline had been different..” SHUT UP YOU BORING GINGER CUNT! DON’T FUCKING SPEAK! DON’T SPEAK! And don’t get me started on Lineker, Hansen, that other cunt who would still have a ‘tache if his kids didn’t threaten to leave and Mr Potato Alan Cunting Shearer “Nurr, I durrnt regret not going to Man U at all, like..” MY ARSE – The BBC pay him £700,000 plus expenses a year to sit there in a room full of cunts, grinning like a cunt and repeating the same old football shite over and over again “I durrn’t think they’re gonna win the league after that display” SHUT UP YOU CUNT WHO FUCKING CARES?

Nominated by Bob Two Shits.

Dearly beloved, I would like to gather your attention to perhaps the ultimate shrine of cuntishness the petrol station.

To be truthful there is so much to cunt from entry to exit, so we will start our journey 30ft up the road behind the queue of traffic trying to get in due to some of the following factors.

1, a few people choose to wait until a petrol pump on “the right side of their car” is available un aware that the hoses do reach over their vehicle.
2, a Chelsea tractor is parked a meter away from the pumps now blocking both isles.

So let’s imagine that we have managed to get to the pump, we now have the wait for the attendant to activate the pump (however he or she is making a coffee for someone) and you stand nozzle in hand hoping to make telepathic contact with them

Petrol stations have metamorphosed into something out of purpose, trying to find rational automotive items (fuses, oil, anti freeze) is futile, however should you require something hot from the deli or a designer coffee you have come to the right place, they even have seating for you whilst your car blocks the pump

Alternatively you could also do the weekly shop whilst you are in it browsing the vast shelves of over priced items perhaps picking up one of those exclusive offers that have been discounted by your fuel purchase.

As I write this I find myself becoming more and more agitated as I relive my 45min visit to my local petrol station where the customer to staff ratio was at least 7 to 1 with the counter blocked by one person ordering a three course meal from the “Deli” and another person (who didn’t even have a car!) insisted on examing every available cold cure and remedy from behind the counter mistaking the attendant for a pharmacist!

All of this was so unnecessary, just sell petrol, I will forgive the automated car scratcher and the extortionate car vacuum just quit the other stuff.

Nominated by Lord Benny