Losing Your MoJo at 60+

“You’ve lost that loving feeling”

Do you know something cunters, getting older is definitely a cunt, but this cunting is about finally admitting your sliding towards the coffin,

At the grand old age of 66 I’ve realised that Lady Quimson, is no longer the Rhodesian hottie I first met on holiday back in Beira in 1973, she was 19 and I was 18,

She was a real fuckable filly I must say, but 48 years later, those looks are gone, and after 50 years of smoking, her pukka looks like a map of the London Underground. And after 4 kids, even with her quite trim figure that lusting I had all those years ago have faded like cheap paint,

My cunting is a simple one, cherish your youth, because if you blink you’ll miss it, sex after 60 is pointless, enjoy it before you just want to be asleep before 9pm. (I’m sure our esteemed and Northumberland cad-about-town, Lord Dick Fiddler might have something to say about that – Day Admin)

(P.S, anyone using Viagra before the age of 60 is a fucking disgrace, keep the pork sword stiff)

Nominated by: Captain Quimson

Paul Merson – So Brave!

A woe is me cunting for this constantly teary idiot ex-footballer turned TV pundit, who claims to have blown £7 million on his gambling addiction.

Gambling addiction is real and can be incredibly destructive, I’ve seen it first hand with family members. But there comes a point where you have to just stop. You have to take responsibility for your actions and deal with them.

This fucker has had rehab after rehab, sympathy from the public for being ‘brave’ in not stopping gambling away his wife and kids’ home and even managed to keep his (estimated) £500k p.a. job at Sky throughout all this. He’s had much more support and financial clout to help him through this than 99% of hopeless gamblers.

He managed to get a new woman in his life and they saved a big deposit for a nice big house (not easy to do in your mid 50s unless you’ve got a very well paid job!)…only for this idiot to gamble it away.

I am sick to death of the media showing weak cunts like this and portraying them as brave. This fucker cries as soon as he starts talking of course.

Brave?

No. He needs to get a fucking grip and take responsibility for his life and responsibility for fucking up the lives of others due to being a weak cunt.

He now wants betting adverts banning etc. He may have a point. I think there are too many of them. But once again, he’s not accepting his responsibility. I’m sure his bosses at Sky (who pay his fucking wages by the way) are loving this weak willed cunt going on a rival channel (BBC), to try and ban their biggest sponsors from working with them!

Well, that is when he’s not crying and acting like a six year old girl who’s lost her favourite dolly. Brave? For not stopping ruining his and (more importantly) others’ lives?

Stop calling this cunt brave! He’s weak and doesn’t accept responsibility. A bad example to all.

Fuck off and boo boo (again)

News Link

Nominated by: Cuntybollocks

Cliff Richard (3)

I know some ISAC readers are masochists as we have early morning postings on shit, or piles or some equally unpleasant aspect of the human body, so try this one on for size Ageing songster and dear friend of Anthony Blair, Cliff Richard is 81 tomorrow (October 15th).

In the dying days his 80th year the wizened old cunt has posed in swimming trunks for a calendar (probably a self named one, though it could be part of the BBCs “Antiques Roadshow” calendar):

News Link

The old bugger must be demented – who wants to see an 80 year old practically naked?. I suppose Margaret Beckett might strum herself off over it, but nobody else, not even AnalEase.

Probably a pair of Tom Daley’s that he “found”. Be grateful I have spared you the photo which I daresay the money grubbing old shitstain has copyrighted.

Nominated by: W. C. Boggs

Must Watch TV

A nomination for ‘must watch’ TV series, particularly ‘box sets’.

I don’t care what it is , a Scandi-noir or Yankee crime epic, it’s still too long sat in front of the goggle box. Even during lockdown I could only manage a few episodes of Ashes to Ashes in one evening, but that was good fun (a very rare exception). That was shown on TV years ago so not a ‘current’ series, either.

I watched Stranger Things when it first came out and it was fairly good, but has since degenerated to woke shit. I also waited for Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones to largely complete their runs on broadcast TV before watching through them on my own time. GoT runs out of steam after series 4 but i did enjoy Breaking Bad.

In the meantime there’s been a lot of old muck recommended to me as ‘must watch TV’. I don’t have the time now. If a film is over two hours I will probably leave it.

I don’t understand the mindset of these people who feel left out if they’re not watching the latest episodic snooze-fest, or the smugness of those who cram this nonsense into their lives. It’s Telly! You’re not cultured. You’re a cunt, and a boring one at that.

Nominated by: Cuntamus Prime

Airport Security Staff

Recently I was part of a team doing demolition work at the airport (bat flu has made the shops shut) before commencing work we had to register, provide photo ID, get passes and go through security scans.

Fair enough. The staff are private contractors, not customs the majority of which were difficult to understand heavily accented foreigners and with a few exceptions (low caste colonial Indians) are officious power tripping tin Jesus types.

Having a bushy beard they singled me out (good thing I wasn’t wearing a tea cosy). When registering my tools and having to remove my boots they had a conniption, a hammer, Stanley knife, pocket knife and here’s the kicker a carpenter’s hatchet, a most useful tool that also makes me feel a bit like good King Robert.

After convincing them they were necessary to the task they saw fit to gripe about the small bottle of Worcestershire in my bag, I’m not going on an aeroplane says I and I needs it to kill the taste of foreign muck I’m often forced to endure for lunch, no, were having it I even had to let them empty out my water bottle.

So after an hour we began work and after filling bins taking them out emptying them into a large skip and going through the screening process again. After the third time after emptying my pockets and removing my boots I walked through the scanner at which point some foreign bint screeched at me unintelligibly and the rotund dwärf that was trying to chat her up (he had no chance)

instead of being at his station waddled over wagging his finger at me saying “this is not a self service area”. I had to hold my tongue as these cunts have no sense of humour and could only think of Papa Lazorou saying “this is a saga now”.

For my impertinence I was made to go through the metal detector again, the body scanner again, get felt up rather roughly again (buy me a drink first), and get wiped over for traces of narcotics and explosives again.

You’ve rumbled me thought I, 275 years of plotting the third Jacobite rebellion from our secret base in Perth (West Oz) ruined. Five hours of work and three of arsing about for four days.

What a fucking tea ceremony, never again.

Nominated by: Shackledragger cunt