It’s amazing how many businesses there are out there who ‘care’ about us. They’re really, really concerned about meeting the needs of the customer; that’s you and me. We know this for a fact because they constantly tell us so. Our satisfaction is their prime motivator.

You see it all the time in their company letterheads and logos, in their advertising, and on their vehicles. You see it in the pictures of their smiling telephone sales staff just dying to take your call, while you listen to their repeated message about how ‘your call is important to us’ as you wait on the line for 45 minutes desperate to get through to an actual human being. They demonstrate it when you arrange for a visit for 9am to look at your boiler, then they turn up at 2pm if you’re lucky. If not, you end up having to waste more time waiting in.

They’re sooooo anxious to give you the best possible deal. Take my car insurance company for example. My renewal quote came yesterday, in an envelope prominently marked ‘the insurance people who care’. They care so much that they’ve hiked my premium by a mere 34.5%, with a new ‘broker admin fee’ of £10 thrown in for good measure.

It’s all about looking after us, you see, putting our interests above all else. The bottom line means nothing to them, because they really do ‘care’.

Yeah right.

google

Nominated by Ron Knee.

I’m writing this in early August. I’m currently on holiday in Norfolk and suffering the effects of ‘global boiling’. In other words it’s 13C outside and it’s pissing down with rain. I need something to cheer me up.

But hold on, here’s a story to lighten my mood. It’s news from the Charles Darwin Institutue for Suicidal Stupidity. Today’s prizewinner is one Zhanna Samsonova, a vegan ‘social media influencer’ who extols the benefits of a fruit-only diet to her millions of brain-dead followers. Or rather she did, because the Russky mental has just croaked from a cholera-type infection brought on by malnutrition and exhaustion. At the age of 39.

Fortunately Zhanna’s passing will not be in vain, because many of her followers refuse to believe her death is a result of her frugivore (look it up) diet. Happily, therefore, we can look forward to many more vegans carrying on as before and winning Darwin awards in future.

And well I never, it’s just stopped raining.

Mirror

Nominated by Goerdie Twatt.

And in the spirit of a Darwinian cunting more from Sam Beau Below.

GT, you beat me to it!

However, I would like UN-cunt this nom.
Why? –

Because, as GT points out in his magnificent cunting, the cretin voluntarily removed herself (and hopefully other `followers`) from the human gene pool so as not to contaminate the rest of our collective DNA. As did the `daredevil` fuckwit xxx who also recently embedded himself in the ground after falling some 68 stories off a building in China …

Bing

Eating out is, or should be, a simple pleasure in life. However, due to the fact that most people are inconsiderate, disrespectful, rude, loud, obnoxious and entitled cunts these days, the dining experience can be ruined in so many ways.

To increase the chances of an enjoyable meal out, Mrs. Yank and I often go to eateries at non-peak times. The potential benefits are plenty, mainly down to there being far fewer diners. Fewer diners means less noise, a good chance of no bastard scum kids ruining everything, kitchen not backed up so faster service and better, more attentive service from the wait staff. Ahhh bliss.

Even when the eating out gods are smiling upon thee, we still have the moronic and logic defying seating assignments perpetrated by the thick-as-pig-shit host or hostess. That individual often being the vacant teenager who welcomes you at the front door of the establishment. So what’s their crime? Read on.

Actual example from last Saturday. We enter the restaurant mid afternoon and joy to behold, it’s big inside and practically empty. Two, maybe three other tables at most. We’re shown to a booth. But wait, there are 3 in a row and one on the end is occupied by an elderly couple. Don’t sit us next to them FFS! Success! We’re shown to the booth at the opposite end. We settle in, get some drinks and order. Then a large group shows up at the hostess station. Uh oh, they’re coming this way. Too many for the empty booth between us and the elderly couple. Keep going, walk on by. But no. The hostess parks these cunts at a large table right next to where we’re sitting. WHY, FFS? Just WHY?

I could count more than a dozen other large tables well away from us and all unoccupied, so why plant these loud, obnoxious cunts right next to us? What the fuck is wrong with you, you cunt? Then predictably, some fat tart friend who obviously used to be a public address system in a previous life waddles over to this table and starts yammering on about fuck knows what. Being a Yank it’s done at a volume which involves us and most of Canada.

Another meal out ruined. Un-fucking-believable.

Nominated by Imitation Yank.

 
A big fat ‘Look at me! Look at me! I nearly died doing something that is clearly outrageously fucking stupid and dangerous’ cunting for the BBC’s Jeremy Vine.

It’s an old story but one that the attention seeking cunt seemingly just cant let go. This article in todays Daily Fail is garanteed to boil ones piss instantly.

The thought never seemed to occur to the opinionated prick that Penny Farthings expose the rider to a degree of risk. Doesn’t stop him riding one along the road whilst holding a selfie stick and filming himself though evidently. Driving without care and attention Jeremy? Bit rich considering how he cunts off and vilifies drivers for using phones at the wheel.

His exhibitionism also put further strain on the feeble resources of the NHS. Apparently they scanned and x-rayed the hypocrytical cunt extensively. As if

I long for the day that this poisonous pious champagne socialist gobshite gets proper mashed up in a high-speed head-on Penny Farthing crash with another equally clueless out of touch metropolitan lib-elite hipster ball bag cunt. Preferably one caused by the cunts having to re-route due to a just stop oil demonstration.

Daily Fail

Nominated by Cunter S Thompson.

The other evening Lady Quim asked me to pop into town to get some food from the supermarket, but she waited till half 9 to tell me (ffs), so off I went to the only late night supermarket in town, but as I walked around with my trolley I slowly realised something, I was one of the very few in the shop that wasn’t an “enricher”, from Malteser headed cunts to Pavels.

They were fucking everywhere, in Pembrokeshire too, do these cunts only venture out at night, you certainly don’t see many in the daytime, even Pembrokeshire isn’t safe from these cunts anymore, maybe I’ll move to Alderney don’t think there’s any enrichment there, scary times ahead cunters, stay safe!

Gov.uk

Nominated by Captain Quimson, link by C.A.