First some background:

Back in the ’60s I used to do a bit of hippydom in India but always with a flush toilet. Nothing more toxic than hippy shit. Place to go before it all got fucked up was Goa. Magical vibe, palm trees by the sea, miles of golden sand, open air dining, open air drug use, open air fucking. Not too much clap about then and anti-biotics still worked. It took Mick Jagger to pox me up. Genuine free love courtesy of The Pill you see.

Looking back at the holiday snaps I have to admit that I was a beautiful long haired boy then and the fillies were very obliging. Alas Tempus Fugit, now yours truly is an ancient fat old fuck as are most of the fair fillies that tempted me. Referring back to the topic, there were tribes of feral Chelsea dahling brats of the lower upper classes unleashed by their spaced out parents to celebrate Gaia and get inducted into Life.

Little Tarquins and Cressidas in their tie dye kaftans puking up all over the golden sands abandoned to the communal creche while their parents are away on their Tantric sex workshops and picking up the latest Psychobabble. Then Ralph and Ffiona were ready to party the night away. There were the occasional gang rapes and beach robberies but the most dangerous jasper on the beach was the itinerant ear cleaner who would walk up to hippy cunts sleeping off their Nirvana and stick a small metal spoon in their ears and clean out the earwax for a few Rupees. I fought a few of those cunts off. Legendary ear infections were the result if they got you.
Legendary times but if any Cunter wishes to follow the old hippy trail to South India be warned that India and particularly Delhi is the rape centre of the world – but perhaps that might be an attraction for some of you.

Guardian

Nominated by Sir Limply Stoke.

This is old news now but it hasn’t been covered here as far as I can tell.
To cut to the chase, Thurrock council is effectively bankrupt after investing over half a billion into a solar farm owned by a wideboy who used it to buy a bugatti and various other luxuries.
They invested in his business, which seems to have been massively over-valued. Thurrock Council hoped in return for their investment they would receive interest payments worth millions.

This time next year Wodders we’ll be millionaires.

Said solar farm tycoon then wound up his companies with the council facing a £200 million shortfall because of the risky investment.

Who the fuck agreed to sign off on this?

£130 million never actually went anywhere near the company and the spiv sorry tycoon no longer lives in the UK….

mmmmkay…

Of course said wheeler dealer used the proceeds to buy the mandatory bling like a jewel encrusted watch like a premier league footballer would buy.

He might even get away with it.

Not sure who comes off the bigger cunt here but as always it’s the taxpayer who ends up footing the bill.

Metro

Nominated by Harold.

As a noted old cunt and older than most I seem to be in some demand as a wedding guest and on one recent occasion as a best man. Various nieces and nephews have posted me what these days counts as an invite, a little card with dried flowers, ribbons and similar sentimental shit glued to it alongside a wedding favour with a vicious pin to wear at the event. They all know – or should – that I do not do wedding presents and certainly never cash. What I do do, and only too happy, is to offer marital advice to either party free, gratis and pro bono. Words of wisdom based on over sixty years of hard earned experience in the yoke.

Thing that comes up time and time again is sloppy pussy. Disappointed groom is outraged at the lack of tactile sensation provided during the statutory wedding night. Despite having countless trial runs before point of sale, the poor punter wakes in the cold dawn of the morning after listening to his beloved’s snores and is hit by the realisation that there are more than two in this relationship. Probably all of his mates and most of the lads down the pub have trod that well travelled path. Nobody expects virginity in these modern times but going down the betrothal/engagement/marriage route at least implies some sort of exclusive contract. 

The heady implosion of Young Love. Fury and Outrage, a wish to do Violence (alright you can kick her out of bed and then pretend you are dreaming) but no my son, “Welcome to the con”.

Love, Marriage – what is that?

Life’s great deception. A life time marriage only works by mutual agreement, mutual blindsiding one’s mutual peccadillos (nothing to do with Michael Portillo) and getting on with it. EG: she does not tidy your porn stash or change your passwords and you do not open her little parcels from Ebay. Extramaritales? Whatever you can get away with and vice versa but do make sure all valuable items including the house and car are in your name for later convenience.

Have spent some time in India where a bride’s price is dependent upon whether she is intacto or not. Needless to say many dodgy quacks are available to do hymen or ‘fanny repairs’. They advertise in most main newspapers as do ‘certified intact’ brides seeking men of good family.

Where have all the virgins gone? (After Pete Seeger)
Long time passing
Where have all the virgins gone?
Long time ago.
Where have all the flowers gone?
The guys have picked them every one.
Oh, When will you ever learn?
Oh, When will you ever learn?

durexindia

Nominated by : Somehow this has been lost – own up if you will

Old cunts like me grew up with great music – the Who, Kinks, Beatles and dozens more. There was plenty of crap but you could ignore it. Through the seventies there was great stuff, progressive shite aside. Up until about the time of fucking Kylie etc, leading to the even worse Spice Slags and Fuck That. Dire.
It couldn’t get any worse could it? Oh yes it could.

The rapping, warbling, autotuned manufactured garbage that passes for pop nowadays is now ‘sampling’ music. 1 in 4 releases apparently. Fuck me, the only rap track I remember samples the guitar riff from ‘Every Breath by the Police. And that’s all I remember of it.

Modern pop. Bland, stolen, Cowelised shite.
It’s a fucking disgrace.

Bbc news

Nominated by Cuntstable Cuntbubble.

Fuck me, is there nothing these days that isn’t a crisis? I’m sick and tired of being told that everything is a crisis.
Latest bullshit is the concrete crisis. It’s not a crisis, it a genuine problem that needs addressing but it’s not a fucking crisis.

We’ve had the lot lately haven’t we? I’m sure I’ve missed a few but here’s a list :

The cost of living crisis. Nothing compared to the 1980s but we didn’t have snowflakes in those days.

The climate crisis. Nothing compared to the crisis we’ll actually have when the electricity runs out running all those heat pumps and cars.

The obesity crisis. Eat decent food you cunts. Take some exercise. Take some responsibility.

The NHS funding crisis. Sack the fucking managers and diversity consultants.

The mental health crisis. No wonder the way we’re talking up the other crises!

FFS stop calling everything a crisis! There’s going to be a general election soon and if Starmer and his cronies get in then there really will be a fucking crisis. You heard it here first…

Rt. Hon. Dioclese (still alive and kicking).