I know this nom has probably been done before, but here goes another one because I am a bit hacked off at moaning cunts running to the media and bleating that they can’t afford the presents their partners and/or kids want for Christmas, and that its all the government’s fault!

A lot of these people are spending a lifetime on benefits or have jobs but spent all their time bending their credit cards on flash cars and huge mortgage commitments, only to realise that they’ve got fuck all cash left to pay for expensive Christmas presents such as iPhone 15s or PS5s.

Why these cunts can’t just tell their family members to make do with far cheaper alternatives and be satisfied I really don’t know. Instead they moan on social media that they can’t afford the £500 PS5 their darling son wants and the £900 iPhone 15 their daughter wants (even though she already has an iPhone 14).

I would love a ASUS GeForce RTX 4090 24GB TUF OC graphics card, but neither I or the missus can realistically afford the £7,000 asking price, and therefore I’ll have to make do with something far cheaper and live with it.

Whinging cunts blaming the government and wanting more money to pay for it all just like the handouts they get/got for the Cost of Living crisis and the energy crisis. They want the Taxpayer to pay for their presents and they’d still moan they’re living in abject poverty!

Ho fucking ho!

Daily Mirror

Nominated by Technocunt.

 
I agree with the Chuckle Brothers! The new Quality Street wrappers are dull and shitty.

I buy big tubs of Quality Street every Christmas. Brilliant. Bright sparkly foil wrappings adding to the magic of the season. Poured into glass bowls they twinkle and shine invitingly. Well not this year. Thanks to the eco-zealots, chocolates have to be dull and boring.

While on the subject, the selection boxes are shit nowadays. They are only £1.50 from Tesco, and the reason is that there is fuck all chocolate in them. The finger of fudge keeps getting shorter.

Even Fortnums, the byword for excess, is getting in on the act. They are going to be fucking up their chocolates to save the planet. What is the point of fucking Fortnums if it is not to offer hugely expensive grub that proudly rapes the environment?

Ho bloody ho!

Daily Fail

Nominated by Twenty Thousand Cunts Under the Sea.

First time cunting and it’s for Netflix. (Welcome aboard, young man – Day Admin)

Piss somewhat boiled this evening as I tuned in to give a documentary on WW2 a once over.

Started off genuinely amazed at the footage and the colouring if the footage. No idea if it’s been cobbled together to make it fit the chronological order of events but then realised I was being irked by the commentary.

Turns out it’s some effnic geezer actor who’s in his 30’s and seems to have made most of his living from the shite spinoffs of star wars as they got woker and more woke.

Suffice to say the defence of the British Realm and the fight against the Nazi invasion should be narrated by old white gentlemen, preferably with a bit of Spitfire experience.

Netflix

Nominated by: Rumpled Foreskin

A smoke and mirrors cunting for SAF (recycled and refined chip oil) and we may as well throw in Virgin for good measure.

Today the first transatlantic flight has taken off using SAF (Sustainable aviation fuels), the flight is jolly for a selected bunch of cunts including Mark Harper, so not even a true commercial flight, in other words pointless.

SAF has 80% net zero over its lifecycle, the plants absorb CO2 and after refining and transport burning the fuel emits the same amount of CO2 as was absorbed by the plants.
Maybe just put plants/trees in the ground that will continue absorbing CO2 for years/decades and burn fossil fuels that cost less than half the cost of SAF.

Why Virgin, well who else other that Richard Branson would waste expensive fuel on a fucking jolly for his mates.

BBC News Link.

IATA Link.

Nominated by : Sick of it

An ‘oi! Don’t frighten the horses!’ cunting for sexual exhibitionists, a couple of whom I happened to come across (no pun intended) in Asda’s car park this afternoon.

I’d parked away from the busier area, and on returning, saw that another car had parked one space across from mine, leaving a space in between. Seated in the front were a couple who I’d guess were in their late thirties. Nothing remarkable in this, but as I began to manoeuvre my trolley between the cars, the bloke promptly inserted his hand between her legs and made great show of vigorously massaging her fanny.

Now I couldn’t give a monkey’s what people get up to in their spare time, good luck to ’em, I say, but blimey, a bit of decorum’s surely in order. It was obvious that they knew that I could see them, and from the gratified expressions on their faces, these two were clearly a couple of thrill seekers who got off on that very fact.

I loaded up my stuff and drove off, wondering whether I should have tactfully suggested that they should get a room. If nothing else, they were chancing that someone would take the car’s registration and call the scuffers; but I suppose that the risk simply added to the excitement.

Now I’m one of the most broad-minded individuals you’ll ever meet, but this sort of behaviour in public seems a bit unseemly and coarse to me. Finger away to your hearts’ content I say, but show a bit of class and do it behind closed doors, and if you do want to be seen, do so in the company of like-minded individuals.

Now dear, just close the curtains come over here, would you…

Nominated by Ron Knee.