Sounds like some sort of new mental health issue for Gen Z and BBC to fret about, but it’s been around for a while and you see it manifested in all sorts of people behaving like cunts. It’s a deep-seated insecurity about your social status which you sometimes project onto thers. It manifests in a number of ways;
‘Do you know who I am?’, or ‘do you know who my husband is?’ is the classic one.
Then there’s people from across the esocio-economic spectrum who give grief to the shop girl or lad at the drive-thru window. and loudly tell their kids ‘this is what happens when you don’t do well at school’, forgetting that half of the kids in supermarkets and fast food places are part time and likely to be studying when they aren’t working..
The women saying these things haven’t worked since they dropped the sprogs and lived off hubby’s income for years as a ‘full-time mum’ (full time apart from the coffee mornings and lunch with other gin enthusiasts), or the bloke saying it is usually in an unglamourous profession himself, perhaps he is a gopher in a builder’s yard or glorified delivery boy.
There’s the people who blow tens of thousands on three week trips to Lanzarote and a new Discovery to ferry the kids to school, then 3 months late go crying to the grandmother for a ‘loan’ because they’re reduced to living on – shock horror – sausages, mince and beans!
Then you have the cunts who have to be seen going to every local event, be it the Festival of Speed, Glorious Goodwood, or the Shoreham airshow (duck!) or any local music festival/ outdoor gig. They can’t just enjoy it, and make sure there are countless photos of them at events all over Fuckbook and ‘ the ‘gram’, usually looking like a cunt.
You also get the ‘eternal student’, who may not have worked at all for years and claimed loans and benefits, but they have a MA in International Relations three years earlier which they’re looking to supplement with either courses in unrelated fields and that makes them better than somebody earning >£60,000 in a trade: they didn’t go to university.
it doesn’t matter that these peopke are in their thirties and can’t afford to run a car ; therir mummy will run them to the train station.
Finally, It’s the aforementioned cunts in minor traffic altercations who think you should know who they are, or who their husband is.
For me, they open themselves up to further humiliation.
‘Some sort of cunt, i imagine’.
Nominated by : Cuntamus Prime