Woody Allen

Posted on May 6, 2016 by A Cunt Who Cunts Cunts

Mr Woody Cunting Allen – a heinous one-man multicunt on a seemingly unstoppable six-decade crusade to aggressively promote the cunt agenda.

He’s like some sort of Cuntinator – he absolutely Will Not Stop making repetitive, pretentious, tiresome, by-the-fucking-numbers, utterly pointless movies, in which he invariably cops off with A-list flange half his age.

Incredibly, various august bodies – of Cunts – have awarded him four Oscars, nine Baftas, and a shedload of Mickey Mouse Euro awards. Every last one of them for Contributions to Cuntage.

It should not escape notice that this feted, celebrated, spoilt, over-indulged, wildly successful multi-millionaire trades on a public persona of angst and insecurity. You absolute hypocunt, Allen.

When not churning out cinematic drivel, Mr Allen is to be found sunk to the plums in his Korean kind-of-stepdaughter in a highly suspect set-up that paddles in the shallow end of incest and noncing.

In summation: “Woody Allen is a Cunt” ought to be projected nightly on the surface of the moon with a giant fucking laser.

Nominated by: Norma D Landings

Comparison site ads

Posted on May 6, 2016 by A Cunt Who Cunts Cunts

Bet she’s thinking “What a cunt!”

All adverts for anything web related are top drawer wank, comparison cunts are extreme cunts.

“Bob saved fifteen quid on his car insurance and now he feels epic”! If Bob’s life so empty that something so trivial can get him wet then he needs to fucking top himself.

Fat turds dancing, bald poof in heels twerking, who the fuck thought these shitbags would make you want to use their twatty products? What a load of cunt.

Nominated by: Gutstick Japseye

Dave Gorman

Posted on May 6, 2016 by A Cunt Who Cunts Cunts

Dave Gorman – what an unfunny pillock.

I’d happily go to prison for a month if I could punch this average, no, less-than-average comedian in his average bearded mug for no other reason than I did it for all the people in tv land (as I’m sure his negative bearded shite has infected other shores) who have to switch over when he appears on tv spouting his trivial, mind-numbing drivel disguised as comedy entertainment.

Noninated by: Donkey Kongs Balls

The capitalisation of grief

Posted on May 5, 2016 by A Cunt Who Cunts Cunts

I’d like to cunt the capitalisation of grief.

We had to pop one of the moggies to the vet/ bank robber this week (cunt umbrella now up as I seem to recall a contributor cunting felines a day it so ago, guilty m’lud, ours shit on a bit of no man’s land behind our yard, not that it’s a decent excuse). It’s ’50/50′ they say, rubbing in the guilt even before you’ve surrendered the Visa card forever.

That’s fine, says me, when you tell me the results we’ll make up our mind whether to cash in the Panamanian unit trusts, cunts.

We’ve always had chavvy rescue moggies and you win some, you lose some but that’s part of the game.

Next question- ‘do you have Petplan?. No fucking chance Shylock, they turn down more than they pay.
This fucking insurance against death is becoming a gargantuan scam now, funeral plans being top of my list.

I have to attend a family wedding this year, not my direct relative but the stupid little cunt is hitching to a fucking undertaker. I wan’t to find out if I can get clerical discounts or a twofer on a simultaneous marriage and death, in the same day.

Hopefully the moggy will be fine, if not then it’s plan B and get a new one from a charity. Either way is fine – I’m not after sympathy chaps, just cunt these bastards who make a shed load of filthy cash from guilt and grief. Cunts!

Nominated by: Arse Biscuit