Author Archives: A Cunt Who Cunts Cunts

Bradley Wiggins

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Bradley-Wiggins

“Ladies and gentlemen, this decade’s biggest cunt is …….. Mr bradley wiggins”.

This cunt was vertually a fucking unknown two months before the Olympics, skinny needs more chips bike riding cunt who slowed traffic to a virtual fucking standstill every weekend whist wearing shite that my fucking sister wouldn’t be seen fucking dead in. Not now. Oh no sirre! This fucking arsewipe is on the front of magazines and fuck knows what else.

Mr Bradley Wiggins – you are a 24 carat cunt of the highest ocean going order… you cunt!

Nominated by : Cripplecock

Anthony Sullivan

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I give you a gobby fake Yank presenter cunt from Devon – Anthony Sullivan.

Your one time limited stock opportunity to buy The Homo Suction X5 Personal Steam Cleaner which includes my free state of the art turbo action arse cleaner to blast those stubborn dags of burnt in burger shite where other cleaners fail. Now you got the power of steam, people. Get dialing now you dumb cunts!

Pray tell me the fuck why? Would you buy a used condom from a yank? Would you buy a used and screwed middle eastern country from a yank? Lard arsed nose jobs think they rule the world though they don’t know where most of it is, the cunts. Y’all have a nice day now!

Him and all the other gobby Yank presenter cunts on shopping channels. Cunts, the lot of ’em.

Nominated by : Sir Limply Stoke

David Beckham [2]

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David-Beckham-Underwear-Ads-for-H-M-Revealed-david-beckham-28044369-1017-1222

So, the knob-end that is Brand Beckham has decided to hang up his boots! Hoodey-fucking-ray-ray!!

Gives the cunt more time to hang around the gym perfecting his perfect figure so he looks good in his underwear ads with a sock stuffed down his shorts.

Please, Becks, PLEASE just fuck off and be a cunt somewhere nice and remote and quiet so we never hear about you ever ever again, you cunt!

Nominated by : Dioclese

Frankie Dettori

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Frankie Dettori : one dodgy jock too dumb to realise that the recreationals go up the horse’s arse, not up yer nose, cunt.

Time was yours truly had connections with the gee gees, Sport of Kings and all that. Level playing field, all the nags were fixed and all the jocks were juiced. Fond memories of little lisping Lester the Queen’s jock, backed favourite, falling orf his “horth” at the last. Howls from the punters. Glory days.

Point is Sport of Kings? Dodgy jocks. Toerag owners. Chinless officials. Bastard bookies. Screwed punters.

Sport of Cunts.

Nominated by : Sir Limply Stokes