I hereby nominate Geoffrey Boycott (Minus Sir) for an illustrious and unavoidably
delayed cunting. Delayed, because this obnoxious, arrogant, bigoted Yorkshire tyke’s latest and unwelcome resurface into the public’s consciousness left me with stress induced angina and subsequent hospitalisation.

But now, thanks to wonderful care received courtesy of the British NHS plus my repeat prescription of Propranolol it’s time at last to express-pace a jaffa straight in the physog of a man that I’ve detested from the moment I saw his crooked yap utter a single sentence.

There is little we Brits have to thank the croaky Maybot for, but her unquestionable admiration and inclusion in her honours list for rent a gob ‘I say what I like and I like what I bloody well say’ woman beater and misogynist Boycunt has got me royally stumped and quite frankly makes my piss boil over into my y-fronts.

Now I don’t doubt this mans prowess as a top notch batsman so I’ll leave any forthcoming cuntification as regards his shortcomings on the crease to experts in cricket which I’m not, but not only has this mean spirited shitface been bestowed with the title of ‘Sir’ which unsurprisingly has been denied to him on a previous occasion, but he has the audacity to say he ‘doesn’t give a toss’ about his convictions for domestic violence when challenged about his worthiness for the honour. Well Geoff, after all those West Indian cricketers that you reckon were handed knighthoods like confetti you must be ahm ‘appy as a pig in mook as they say in Yorkshire.

So now you’ve got your medal, bugger off back into retirement and take your microphone with you, hopefully you now will be well and truly boycotted Boycunt. I’m in no doubt that many people including the women you’ve knocked around would rather see you as a pile of ashes rather than hear you commentating on them. Odious CUNT.

Nominated by Family Farter

Time out screens on mobile phones.

I should probably nominate myself for doing this, I am of an age where even with the large text I cant read the bastard, But occasionally I like to see what is what and who is in trouble here, So out with the phone!

screen swipe, silly pattern, select minuscule icon, screen load, select site, select topic, find interesting comment, squint at screen and fucking blank!

Screen times out!, press unresponsive button, swipe screen, do silly pattern, try and find article that has now minimised, expand article start to read, blank screen as it times out, give up.

Phone rings half an hour later repeat stupid process answer phone to discover battery is now at 14% due to apps left open in the background.

I fucking hate these things, ideally I should have a phone that does just that or the makers of phones should knock out a model designed by the early learning centre, big buttons big screen something a bit Dom Jolly for people like me.

Nominated by Lord Benny

Alastair Campbell: liar, cheat all round piece of shit. He deserves a nomination for his antics last night during the debate between Boris and Jeremy, the Jew Hater.

Campbell rebranded his twitter account to ‘Boris Johnson’ and proceeded to tweet a series of misogynistic tweets such as, “I wish this bird would stop asking me to shut up…why isn’t she in the kitchen”? And the always hilarious; “Off for a quick post-debate shag. Hope Carrie’s not back yet”. He then changed it back to it’s original Alastair Campbell and seemingly having forgotten, he tweeted, “I am a liar and a charlatan”. Well, at least he managed some accuracy at the end.

It’s not surprising that someone as childish as Campbell would do something so ridiculously childish as this. But considering he and his chum Blair are responsible for far more than Boris Johnson ever could be, that displays Herculean levels of arrogance.

It’s about time that this lying, devious, pile of elephant shit disappeared down into the deepest, darkest hole on the planet, and stayed there.

Alastair Campbell, you sir, are a cunt.

Nominated by Quick Draw McGraw

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