An overture-and-beginners, lights-round-the-makeup-mirror cunting please for Equity, the actor laddies union, who wish to ban that disgraceful sexist expression *Ladies and Gentlemen*:
What a bunch of limp-wristed fuckwits.
What should we call the punters then?. Answers on a postcard please to Hilary Benn, a man with a woman’s name, who will ask for a confirmatory vote to put it back to “the people”
Nominated by W. C. Boggs
‘Black Friday’ is up for a pre-yuletide cunting
Black Friday – a name which suprisingly hasn’t been nixed by the social justice elite – is one more in a long line of forced Americunt imports. Instead of being just a day of shopping sales pre-Christmas as outlets move to shift final stocks of certain goods, it has become a fucking fortnight of build-up, designed to maximise the fleecing of shopaholic simpletons of their benefits cash.
For me, the accursed phenomenon came into focus a few years ago, when the famous footage appeared on the news depicting dinudnuffins savagely beating each other over the cornrows to get the last discounted Blaupunkt TV from Tesco. I mean, I wouldn’t even punch my most hated rival over complete detritus like a fucking Blaupunkt TV, but I guess a sale is a sale, right?
Admittedly, come Friday morning, yes, I will get a few things online; namely a cut-price TV stick which I was considering buying full price anyway and a reduced-cost Eurosport annual subscription – that’s it. Things I wanted regardless of Black Friday, things I will extensively use and hence, legitimate bargains. But just who in their fucking right mind wants to traipse into circles of retail hell like Westfields West London or Bond Street, just to get into an eternal scrum over some Michael Kors shite or a tub of Body Shop “£1 off” ultra-perfumed chemicals?
Just like Hallowe’en went from a bit of a kids treat to a full-blown fucking national holiday, so to has this shite from across the pond infested the media-driven hype machine to stir the spending fervour of every fucking simpleton in the land. Hopefully a few morons will plummet over the 8-storey escalator in Westfield’s John Lewis. I suspect however that still won’t stop them, the fucking insidious cunts.
Nominated by The Empire Cunts Back
In my day a doublled barrelled surname meant you were some private schooled educated cunt like Tim Nice-But-Tim. We respected these cunts cos they were posh and knew how to manage us Hoi Polois. Nowadays ever double barrelled cunt is a dark-key footballer playing for some Liverpool soccer outfit.
Doubled barrelled surname should be reserved to proper Eton, Harrow etc. educated upper class ruling class types who are a product of proper servicing not some Scouse rendering of a white flag by a hugely hung blackie.
They are just highlighting that mother got sorted by some massively hung rasta cunt with a surname like Alexander or Arnold or Oxlade or Chamberlain.
Nominated by Cuntrycunt
https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4807676/Watchdogs-investigate-children-standing-trolleys.html
What a gay day for another cunting for Dame Keir (look at that photo – either he has just smelt one of his own turds or he is taking it up the arse from David Lammy):-
Anyway, her ladyship has decreed that because some of us were naughty in 2016 and voted against his wishes, we must have our minds changed.
What is he going to do? Send Russell-Moyle round to hit us with his handbag?
What a smug little arsewipe.
Nominated by W. C. Boggs
I would like to nominate young children whom sit or stand in shopping trolleys and the adults that let them.
It’s similar to that nomination of that lady whom lost her head whilst sticking it out of a train.
I’ve been working in a supermarket for a bit now after having been out of work for a while but keeping busy with volunteering in the mean time. Finding a job is hard and I need the money.
It cheeses me right off when children mess about.
When the parent or parents come to the till with child in the trolley, I ask the parent, “What shelf did you find that on (pointing to the child in the trolley)?” Parent laughs.
Matter of factly, no ounce of can of cant-ishness whatsoever, I tell the parent, “It’s dangerous to have children in trolleys. Accidents can happen”. Some either apologise or give an evil look.
It annoys me because if something bad happens, it’s never the person who causes it, always the fault someone else.
There are warning symbols on the push bar of the but still..
Fork sake.
Also people wearing pyjamas and or slippers in supermarkets. Gah!
Nominated by Spoonington