The Phrase ‘Before My Time!’


is a cunt

This cunting comes with a caveat; this excuse for ignorance becomes valid in relation to various obscure cultural references , such as underground psychedelic bands of the late sixties or middling footballers of the fifties; they’re generally not known for a reason. It’s quite a narrow subject of interest to the general population.

You hear this phrase quite a lot from millennials, who almost say it with pride, as if knowing about anything before their date of birth, or decade currently made fashionable (such as the eighties because of Stranger Things) is equivalent to being an old codger. You’re now a relic.
The Battle of Britain was fought with tanks, innit?
Nah, don’t matter… before my time!’

I thought this cunting would probably be better if it came from me as I’m one of the younger cunters and in the limbo between Gen X and Millennial.

I find that what near-contemporaries or those just a few years younger really mean is ‘i don’t read books/papers/journals/watch documentaries/ am generally incurious about the world’.

A lot of these people are quite well-travelled, even if they all tend to travel to the same places and far from sober and think that simply by travelling they become better people, but return just as ignorant and conceited as when they left; the delusion is just even more embedded.

May don’t seem to have picked up any more common sense, which I find odd, but then I remember that many are treading a path so well-worn and Anglophone, so cossetted by airports and hotels and top-ups from mummy and daddy, they don’t need to learn life lessons.

Also, they don’t need to know who either Charles Dickens or Darwin were because they’ve been drunk in Phuket, drunk in Bangkok, climbed on the ruins of Angkor Watt and then drunk in Sydney.

The modern quiz show is where these worldly bon vivants proudly display their ignorance;

‘Before my time, bruv!’
‘Before my time, mate!’
‘Before my time, moosh!’

Did you really need to be alive in the middle ages to know which angel led a rebellion against God in the Judeo-Christian bible?

May as well say, ‘naah, don’t believe in God, ha!’

I reiterate the point that certain pop songs, TV programmes etc. do not really merit being known about by the younger generation, and sometimes ‘before my time can be employed diplomatically.

A good example might be Watney’s Party Sevens. I only know about those from working with blokes who talked about them. I certainly wouldn’t say ‘before my time’ with pride.

By the same token, I’m not one to scoff at a late millennial/ gen Z who has never heard of Depeche Mode or The Foo Fighters, although you can bet they know about Nirvana.

I know a few contemporaries who might, but I put that down to insecurity. It isn’t important they know about pop and rock bands from the eighties and nineties, whatever I may think of them. Even within the scope of musical history they are ephemera, as are most pop acts.

Still, the pride of the ‘before my time’ crowd we see in the media and those leaving education reminds me of Orwell’s line from Nineteen Eighty Four,

‘Nothing exists except an endless present. and the party is always right’

Eh? George Orwell? Before my time, bruv.

nbcnews

Nominated by Cuntamus Prime.

(Just a quick note to say there will be an additional Nomination at 11am today and 11am tomorrow. Thanks – Day Admin)

Adele [9]


I smell a cunt.

If there are any bored mathematicians out there, then please tell me what is the probability that after Adele’s gushing appreciation of a former teacher on stage at a recent gig, then lo and behold, in a scene reminiscent of ‘this is your life’, and much to the harpie’s surprise, who is in the audience? – fuck me it’s the aforementioned teacher herself who is asked onto the stage.

Prearranged? I think so. What a cynical sanctimonious skriking cunt.

The cunting doesn’t end there.

After leaving the stage to replaster her mascara streaked face, she spots erstwhile cunting candidate chatty-man Alan Carr and gets him up to fill in for her (not like that, obviously)

You Tube Link.

Nominated by : Lord Cuntington of Kuntston upon Hull

People who send Christmas Round Robins (2) …

… are smug, self-congratulatory, deluded cunts.

As predictable as bottom wind at 7pm on Christmas evening, I await our ‘friend’ Bunty’s annual 4-page mélange of family achievement – Hugo’s Grade 4 violin, Poppy’s rosettes at the Pony Club Gymkhana, husband Roger’s promotion and the new friends Bunty made at Holistic Pilates, all spiced with a dash of name dropping and faux concern for others less fortunate. Wonderful holidays, wonderful family, wonderful life.

The irony is that had she consulted Debretts, the bible of social mores, Bunty would have found that Christmas Round Robins are a definite no-no:

https://debretts.com/the-christmas-card-conundrum/

So for fellow cunters who are the recipients of these unwanted tomes, I offer the following 10-point Bullshit Translation Plan:

1. ‘Hugo was the star of the Nativity Play’.
– Hugo was fourth shepherd on the left and forgot his one line.

2. ‘Poppy can’t decide between Oxford and Cambridge’.
– Poppy will be lucky to get into Diversity Studies at East London.

3. ‘Roger came into some money and invested it in a Porsche Turbo Cabriolet’.
– Roger’s Aunt Betty croaked and he is using the inheritance to fund his mid-life crisis.

4. ‘Poppy split up with her boyfriend when she decided he wasn’t right for her’.
– He fancied it up the arse and she was having none of it.

5. ‘St Swithin’s have moved Hugo to a class more suited to his needs’.
– The remedial class.

6. ‘Here is a photo of us at our little hideaway on Bali’.
– I’ve photoshopped out Poppy’s tattoos.

7. ‘We had a chat with the Beckhams at Wimbledon this year’.
– I asked David for an autograph and his bag of bones told me to piss off.

8. ‘Roger went to Magaluf in May for a golfing weekend with Brian from Accounts and Justin from Marketing’.
– Roger went to Magaluf in May for a dirty weekend with Lucy, the airheaded little trollop from the typing pool.

9. ‘Mr Snugglekins our cat continues to bring us great joy and pleasure’.
– The fucking thing keeps leaving half-eaten mice on the doorstep.

10. ‘The Christmas illuminations in the village warm the heart at this time of year’.
– The council houses are all lit up with tacky Chinese tat. Yuk!

Merry Christmas Bunty, you stuck up bitch.

(Names have been changed to preserve anonymity. and avoid legal action.)

Nominated by: Geordie Twatt

Dead Pool [309]


Congratulations to Cuntstable Cuntbubble for correctly predicting the final outro of Shane MacGowan. He was 65.

It says here that Shane MacGowan, the boozy, rabble-rousing singer (singer? – NA) and chief songwriter of The Pogues, infused traditional Irish music with the energy and spirit of punk. MacGowan’s songwriting and persona made him an iconic figure in contemporary Irish culture, and some of his compositions have become classics — most notably the bittersweet Christmas ballad “Fairytale of New York”.

Here’s a tribute to Shane from the incomparable Chas Crane.

Onwards with Dead Pool 309. You know the rules:

1) Pick 5 famous cunts you think will conk out next. It is first come first serve and no duplicates are allowed. You can always be a cunt and steal someone else’s nominations from the previous pool.

2) Anyone who nominates the world’s oldest man or woman is a cunt who will be ignored.

3) It must be a famous cunt who we have heard of.

4) No swapping picks mid pool unless already taken.

5) Hits are rewarded based on the chronology of death reporting not necessarily chronology of death.

Let the game begin!

The BBC [104], Russel T. Davies and Doctor Who [8]

Just when you thought this programme couldn’t get any more woke or absurd, it has done.

The Time Lord hero and his/her/its companions have already been woked to buggery. And the less said about the stories, the better. To see the female dark personage ‘Doctor’ in the official BBC 60th anniversary line-up of all the Doctor’s incarnations is nauseating enough. She had a small part in one episode (as – wait for it – a ‘Doctor of the future’?). The great Peter Cushing – who starred in two Doctor Who/Dalek films – is not included because he is not BBC or official, yet she is?! A curling woke turd of the highest order.?

But… But it gets worse. Because now they are woking the villains too.?

Executive Producer (‘showrunner’ my arse) Russell .T. Davies is making Davros an able bodied man (and white if he’s evil, naturally). Apparently Davies claims that it’s ‘offensive’ and a ‘stereotype’ to portray ‘dIsabled people’ as evil.

Somebody should tell Russell .E. Coyote that Davros is not a person. He is an alien Kaled from the planet Skaro. Davros also isn’t disabled. He is a Kaled/Dalek hybrid. He does not go around in a wheelchair and claim disability benefit. Davros is also fucking fictional, always has been.

Once again, the BBC and their lackeys are turning entertianment and escapism into a politically correct lecture, by shoehorning ‘real issues’ into it. The cunts would put sambeaus, poofs and climate change into the Magic Roundabout if it was still on.

Davies said (about the original and classic Davros) that ‘society has moved on’. Why doesn’t this mincing ninny get to fuck? What has society got to do with a ficticious alien mad scientist??

And as for disabled people not being evil? Has the cunt heard of Oscar Pistorius?

Radio Times Link.
Nominated by : Norman