Alex Salmond has died at the age of 69. Well that’s a very comfortable position.
It seems he died by over exerting himself when opening a bottle of tomato sauce
in Macedonia. I am awaiting the coroner’s report to see if he died
by being clogged up with shortbread. It seems he didn’t pay the travel
insurance because his supporters wanted the RAF to repatriate his body with
a special flight. Scotland doesn’t have its own air force of course.

Alex Salmond: A disgraced former first minister, political opportunist, fat cunt.
His critics were less kind. This is the man who sued his own lawyer
who kept the fat pest out of jug. He was suing the Scottish Parliament
for £1m for God knows what. A man who uses the law to his own advantage
and not for justice. The man who campaigned for decades to separate Scotland from the rest of the UK. The man whose opinions caused arguments in families and between friends. An arse hole. Good riddance.

I just wish someone would stand up in parliament and say that.

The herald

Nominated by Anton Pillar.

This nomination comes to you, with grateful assistance from Irving Berlin, as well as all the TV ads for funeral plans and Over 50s insurance, where a glamorous widow is seen smiling through her tears and looking beautiful, fragrant and helpless as she gases wistfully at her little children, who she wishes would fuck off out of it:

“Smile, even though your heart is breaking,
Smile even though it’s aching,
You’ll fina smile is really worthwhile……”

Kate Garroway, former news “presenter” has invented a new career for herself, promoting herself as the grieving widow telling us in short order through TV and print journalism “My first week without Derek”. “My son/daughters first birthday without Derek”, “My first summer without Derek”. “Darling Derek cost me thousands for his care till he kicked the bucket”, and now – the ultimate sob story “My first Xmas without Derek”.

After “I Love Lucy” (and didn’t we all?) came to an end, for many years Miss Ball had a series based on a book or play called “Life Without George” (not a lot of people know that) – it was just life without Dezi Arnez, as they divorced during the Lucy Show run.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now – but please, Ms Garroway, shut the fuck up – you are getting boring:

the sun

Nominated by W. C. Boggs.

A cunting please for the Samaritans who have suspended one of their volunteers, Robert Laverick, for having the temerity to speak out about the harm done by a degenerate bunch of trans activists called ‘Gendered Intelligence’, a group who the Samaritans endorse and recommend on their fucking website.

Gendered Intelligence have been going into schools and indoctrinating kids as young as four on the subject of changing gender, i.e that they may have been born in a body of the wrong sex.

FFS…

In July Mr Laverick, posting on X, debunked claims by the group that the current ban on puberty blockers will increase child suicides, among other lies.

If anything will increase child suicides it’s these cunts infiltrating schools and fucking up the minds of innocent, impressionable young children.

This is blatant child abuse and the Samaritans are accessories to the fact.

freespeechunion.org

Nominated by Shit-cake Baker.

You’ll all be familiar with Danny ‘Double Chin’ Dyer, professional BellEnder and rumoured lovechild of ‘Dirty Den’ Watts and Pat Butcher. Well Danny’s got a new flick out soon. It’s called ‘Marching Powder’, and it’s about a geezer trying to stop snorting the old Columbian white and fighting at football matches, and turn his life around to save his marriage.

So we can expect to see some promotional stuff popping up the meeja in the coming days I suppose. You know the sort of thing; Danny out flogging ‘The Big Ishoo’ and bemoaning the lot of the homeless, or maybe a photo opp as he quaffs a pint and an eel pie in bar of ‘The Whore’s Drawers’ somewhere down the East End. He might turn up on breakfast tv as he does from time to time, giving it large on the state of affairs in the Middle East or something, know wot ah mean?

You just have to put up with this kind of ‘d’ list shite, but in my opinion The Cockney Cockhead has just excelled himself when granting an exclusive to ‘The Daily Scar’ on the bombshell topic of, erm, his ringpiece. It seems that the lad’s partial to a fiendishly hot Ruby Murray and a few beers on a Saturday night, but this causes him some discomfort. ‘There’s a myth that it (Indian food) gives you the runs’ cautions Danny. ‘It doesn’t, it just makes your arsehole sting’.

A sad and cautionary tale, I’m sure you’ll all agree. We can only sympathise with Danny as he endures his ‘curry hell. It’s a story with a universal theme; we’ve all been there. But at least there’s a happy outcome, as he tells us. He ‘plans carefully’ for when he needs ‘to get that first pony out of the way’. What does this involve? Well, keeping his bog roll cool obviously, and this requires some thought. ‘You don’t wanna leave your toilet roll next to the potato salad in the fridge, it’s not very appetising is it. So I just pop it in me little wine cooler and dab away’.

It’s a touchin’ good story, told with all the elegance and refinement that we’ve come to expect from such a gent. I’ll definitely be looking out for that new film now, I do so admire a real touch of quality in a ‘celebrity’. Good on yer mah san, the people have a right to know.

Daily Star

Nominated by Ron Knee.

It was about 18 months ago.
I was away on business and staying in a hotel.
I hadn’t had that much to drink the night before but I kept having to get up for a piss.

I must have got up a dozen times.
I was pissing for Spain.
Something wasn’t right.

When I got home I went to the chemist and she gave me a simple blood test.
She said that I had diabetes and made me an appointment with my doctor.
She told me that all of that pissing was my body trying to get rid of the sugar.

My doctor made arrangements for a full set of tests and it was confirmed.
The Artful Cunter is damaged goods.

I was given a prescription for three different types of pills and a diet sheet to follow.

I asked how long I needed to take the pills for and she told me the rest of your life.
She cheerfully added, ‘so not too long’.

That’s when things changed for the worse in the Cunter household.

The wife insists that I stick to the fucking diet sheet and everything on it is fucking horrible.
If you are ever tempted, DO NOT eat brown rice.
It tastes like I imagine cat litter does.

Any chocolates or sweets in Casa Cunter are hidden away.
Chips and other fried foods are off limits.

The wife tells me that Queen Elizabeth I died of diabetes.
The fucking woman was 67 in a time when you died of old age in your 20’s.

When we go out to eat it’s a case of, “You’re not eating that!”
If I ignore her then I get accusing looks all night.

“You’re not going to have another beer are you? Don’t you think that you have had enough?”.

Well obviously fucking not because I have just ordered another one.

I used to be able to go away on business and not hear from Mrs Cunter for days.
But now she is on the phone 3 times a day.

Not asking about the hotel, city or work.
She wants to know what I have been eating.

Bless her.
She means well but I do wish that she would shut the fuck up.

Diabetes is a cunt.

diabetes uk

Nominated by The Artful Cunter.