Lockdown Dog Days

‘Well it’s debts and taxes, and pains and woes
Aches and miseries, that’s how it goes
And now I’m getting a cold in the nose
Life gets tedious, don’t it?’

So sang Tex Williams back in the 40s, but as legendary radio show host Seamus Android (of ‘Round the Horne’ fame) would have put it, ‘how true those words are, even today’.
I don’t know about you guys out in IsACland, but it’s getting so that I can barely contain my apathy in these lockdown dog days, listening to the clock ticking and dreading the moment when the lurgy might strike. It’s a bit like the old adage about war, I suppose; it’s long periods of boredom punctuated by moments of terror.
I lounged in bed this morning, letting my anticipation build to fever pitch at the prospect of a shave. When I was seeing how long I could make my breakfast coffee last, the phone rang. Oh the buzz, but it was just some old dear who’d dialled the wrong number. That could well have been my excitement quota for the day, but then the postman arrived. What had he brought us to lighten the spirits? Why, a letter from the building society telling us that they’ve slashed the interest rates on our ISAs, the cunts.
But there was always the prospect of some stimulating conversation from ‘Er Indoors; I could easily stand to hear again about how my little princess can’t get out to the hairdressers. Of course she needs to go shopping for new shoes, but tragically that’s out too. She’ll just have to make do with one of the thirty-odd pairs that are stacked up in the bedroom cupboard. We’ve all got to make sacrifices in these trying times.
Naturally enough, she’s busy finding things to occupy me. Apparently ‘the Devil makes work for idle hands’, so I could do some of the things I’m always talking about doing, by which she means some of the things SHE’S always talking about me doing. Clean out the loft, dear? I’ll think about making a start…
Tell you what my little flower, why don’t YOU make yourself useful? You could get in the kitchen and make some lasagne for tea, and dig out a bottle of Pinot. While you’re at it, you can be thinking about providing some soldier’s comforts later, to bolster flagging morale about the place. Meanwhile, I’ll have a walk down the front garden and watch the sagebrush blowing down the street. I might even spot a curfew breaker that could be grassed up to the rozzers for the guilty pleasure that would offer. Then I’ll come back and dig out a film. ‘The Longest Day’ might be appropriate, or perhaps ‘The Great Escape’ could give us a few ideas.
Oh for fuck’s sake, an e-mail’s arrived from our daughter. ‘Dad, I’m not feeling well; dry cough and breathlessness, and feeling exhausted. I think I’ve got it. Kids missing you and mum terribly’. Christ on a bike, where’s my Glenfiddich? Lockdown dog days, let the good times roll.

Nominated by Ron Knee

Self Barbering

Reals cunts live alone. If you have some other person who is prepared to live in your loathsome, insufferable presence, you’re hardly a true cunt. I am a cunt.
. Yet, I am also folically fortunate so whilst the economy and our liberty shrinks around us, my hair continues to flourish, with wanton disregard for the lockdown rules or forced inability to visit a barber and no “other half” to attempt a ham-fisted hacking at my greying locks.
I am aware that some of you cunts can get by with a quick wipe over with a damp cloth, or a cursory rub with some Duraglit over your sparsely populated dome but I have had to resort to drastic measures. Following this mornings self administered hackings, I have gone “full cunt”, in that not only am I one but I now also look one. I look like someone has hammered a bowler hat onto my head, then unscrewed it to remove it.

Obviously I can’t see around the back of my head (but frankly wouldn’t recognise it as mine if I could – who would FFS ? When the barber holds up the mirror to let you see the back of your head, I have always thought that could be a photo of any cunt’s head for all I know… I digress). Problems with self-barberism include clippings of hair down the krunders, random chunks of hair missing altogether, the possibility of gouging a divot in the noggin, losing an eyebrow / earlobe or two.
Any other cunts on here given it a go ?

Nominated by Cunt Reviled

PETER MANDELSON:

It has been a long time since the queen of New Labour, Anthony Blair’s first lady and champion rimmer of Hartlepool has had a nomination all to himself. The oily fuckwit is usually to be found fisting any money-making opportunity he finds, however questionable, tacky or unpatriotic it is, and the current pandemic is no exception:

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8233229/China-advisers-investigated-amid-fears-Beijing-using-Covid-commercial-benefit.html

What a surprise – the self obsessed, money-grubbing old turd-burglar “advises” Chinese companies (therefore the communist Chinese government) how to take advantage of our current plight by taking over British companies, and gaining their knowledge and research on the cheap.

This oleaginous, quivering pile of human excrement has no talent to make money by his own hands – his only talent is to crawl, fawn and give bum sex to the rich and powerful.

Time to take this worn-out old poofter to a Chinese wet market, before Kweer Charmer finds him a job from the public purse as his toilet slave, a role Mandy would be, in all honesty, one he would excel at.

Nominated by W. C. Boggs

Sam Smith

Sam Smith’s fans rush to defend star as singer is trolled over their ‘quarantine meltdown’ and compared to Captain Tom, 99, after WWII hero raises £14m for the NHS.

The Money On My Mind hitmaker, 27, was criticised after sharing their varying ‘stages of a quarantine meltdown’ last month as they self-isolate at their £12 million home.

And now the singer, who prefers to use the pronoun ‘they’, has been compared to WWII hero Captain Tom, 99, who has raised £14m for the NHS by walking 100 laps of his garden.

While the singer also addressed the backlash and tweeted: ‘Sending nothing but love to everyone out there today,’ followed by a heart emoji.

One person said: ‘Some of the tweets on here about Sam Smith today are absolutely horrendous. Praise key workers and Captain Tom Moore, what they’re doing is outstanding, but do you really have to do it whilst having a pop at Sam Smith as well?’

A different user put: ‘#BeKind congratulations to the immensely inspiring Captain Tom Moore for giving us all something to cheer about. We salute you sir.

Hero: The singer has been compared to WWII hero Captain Tom, 99, who has raised £14m for the NHS by walking 100 laps of his garden

‘Nothing but love’: Sam addressed the backlash on Thursday and said they have ‘nothing but love’ for everyone.

And to all those people comparing him to Sam Smith have a word with yourselves.

Another follower commented: ‘NOT a fair comparison. Captain Tom did an incredible thing which deserves all recognition.

Sam Smith, you are nothing but a pathetic self centred attention seeking waste of space, all negative tweets targeted at you for your publicised inability to cope with the simplest of government recommendations whilst living a life of relative luxury compared to most are justified and fully deserved.

And any comparisons between you and Captain Tom frankly absurd and complete laughable.

Cunt.

Nominated by Willie Stroker

Keep clapping until your hands look like this.

Clap for Carers

No, not an STD, but coming to your screens this Thursday. Live doorstep coverage on BBC and C5. Good to know camera crews can do this essential work,( and in the BBC case, paid for by us) during lockdown.
Cutting edge broadcast journalism.
As it is live it is presumably aimed at cunts like me who wont be on the doorstep, so that I can share in the bullshit.

Nominated by Cuntstable Cuntbubble

An add on to the Constable’s cunting.
The police in London: all stood in a line and clapping the NHS.
Surely in these troubled times, the cozzers have better and more important things to do?

Cunts!

Nominated by Normant