
There are times when I just want to completely chill out.
I don’t want to have to concentrate or even think. I want to relax.
For those times I find that watching the snooker is ideal.
Relaxing but not too boring.
Each frame is different.
Mrs Cunter tuned into the darts tournament last night.
What a fucking load of shit!
It starts with an announcer, introducing 2 fat bastards as if they are going to be competing for a world boxing title.
“FROM LAANDAAN AND BEING BROADCAST LIVE THROUGHOUT THE WOOOOOOOOOLDDDD!!!”
“THE MIGHTY JOOOOOOW BLOOOOOOOOOOGS!!”
Then some obese, four eyed cunt appears for his walk on.
Music playing at full blast and dopey, pissed spectators holding up bizarre messages on bits of card.
The fat cunt will stop just before going up the steps to the stage to hug his family and kiss his equally obese wife.
Anyone would think that he was a fat gladiator, about to face a life or death contest in the ring.
Once he hauls his sweaty carcass up the stairs to the stage there are confused dancing girls, trying to make a routine out of the bad choice of music.
Repeat again for his opponent.
Every fucking game is exactly the same.
Score 501 and end with a double before the other fat cunt does.
There is very little skill involved in my opinion.
If anyone were to practice doing the same repetitive movement for 8 hours a day, every day, then they would be very good at it within a few short months.
Then there is the absolute arrogance when a player throws a good score.
The fist pumping and expression to the cameras.
It’s just a pub game you cunts. You have thrown a dart at a target, not floored Mohamed Ali in his prime.
Don’t get me started about the spectators in their fancy dress, singing stupid songs.
They deserve their own, separate cunting.
Unwatchable tripe.
Sly Sports. (Link provided by Night Admin – NA)
Nominated by : The Artful Cunter