Dead Pool [377]


Congratulations to Jeezum Priest for correctly predicting the sad passing of Prunella Scales. Perhaps best known for playing the role of Sybil Fawlty in Fawlty Towers, her long career spanned 7 decades which saw her appear on the big screen, small screen and in live theatre. A true national treasure.

On to Dead Pool 377.

The rules:

1) Pick 5 famous cunts you think will conk out next. No duplicates allowed and it is first come first serve. You can always be a cunt and steal someone else’s nominations from the previous pool.

2) Anyone who nominates the World’s Oldest Man or Woman is a cunt who we will ignore.

3) It must be a famous cunt we have heard of.

4) No swapping picks mid pool unless they have already been nabbed.

5) Hits are awarded based on chronology of death reporting not necessarily in chronological order of death.

Love/Hate relationships

Besides my slight tendency to be drawn towards nominating Greta Thundercunt, I always try and nominate things that are a little leftfield and obscure, Today I nominate love / hate relationships to generate a bit of conversation.

I could focus on my ex, working for money, many things. But no, I shall focus this entirely in Buckfast tonic wine although eating stupidly hot curries, preferably for money comes a close second, Give me a “challenge” where its free for finishing it or even better, A prize, I’m all in to suffer the next day consequences.

Back to Buckfast. I don’t especially like the taste, I really don’t like the unique form of hangover it provides and I especially don’t like the culture associated with it (I’m a very peaceful drunk).

But without fail, I can’t help myself when shopping if I know I will be drinking, It sets a drinking day off very well, A bizzare caffeine fuelled tipsy that no other drink is even slightly capable of providing, Almost impossible to describe but after over 20 years of drinking the stuff, its very much a love / hate relationship. Drink a 2nd bottle at your own risk, A third and the game is over for the next day.

deadlinenews

Nominated by Cunt of the Isles.

Chavs and Phone Zombies at Funerals


The usual mongs have turned out for Ricky Hatton’s funeral.

Cunts in Manchester City shirts and waving City flags (what is it with these blue bastards?). Anyone with a shred of decency and respect wears black at a funeral.

Also – surprise surprise – there are even some Liverpool shirts in there. Might have known they’d be in there griefjacking. Like leeches on a big fat blood filled arse.

Yes, the lad was a huge City supporter. But at his funeral?! Shouldn’t heads be bowed silently as a mark of respect (a la Churchill and his send off)? Waving flags like its a day out at the Cup Final? Fuck off. What’s next? Sparklers? Whirly Gig Windwills? This is a funeral, Not a sodding carnival.

And, naturally, there are hordes of shitheads holding up their phones, ‘filming’ the procession. And, of course, these fuckers will be boasting about it on social media and bastard Tik Tok.

This is Dianafication for chavs and riff raff. Complete and utter cunts of the highest order.

BBC News Link

Nominated by: Norman

Maiwand Banashee


Maiwand Banashee is a cunt.

Yet another terrorist who exploited the hopelessly idiotic “asylum system” to live in Britain despite being a member of the fucking Taliban and a prospective suicide bomber.

Please avail yourself of this wonderfully uplifting sob story courtesy,as ever,of Our BBC..

BBC News Link

The mind boggles quite frankly.

The naivety and mindless form filling bureaucracy that allows such trash into our country is totally beyond redemption.

What a mud hut of vile cunts.

Oven.

Nominated by: Unkle Terry

The Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool


‘Hello sailor!’

‘Oooooooo…get ‘er!’

There’s a long and honourable tradition of claiming that historical figures belong to some fashionable minority. Cleopatra was black, Florence Nightingdale was a tuppence licker, Hitler only had one ball… you know the sort of thing I mean.

Now there’s the case of Admiral Lord Nelson, who was mortally wounded as the Royal Navy blew the arses off the French and Spanish fleets at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. As Nelson lay dying aboard HMS Victory, he is reputed to have said to his said to his friend Captain Thomas Hardy ‘kiss me Hardy’.

Based on this, the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool has branded our boy Horatio as ‘queer’, and has placed two paintings of his death in an exhibition entitled ‘On the History of LGBTQ and Love’. Apparently the museum’s curators have stated that ‘historians have long speculated about the exact nature of the relationship’ between Nelson and Hardy, and that their friendship and bond could represent ‘the sometimes hidden queer history of life at sea’. Sounds as though life at sea could have had its, shall we say, gay side back in those days; all ‘rum, bum and concertina’, as George Melly put it in his autobiography.

Now as we know, Nelson was married to Frances Nelson, but was also getting plenty on the side from Lady Emma Hamilton, who bore the saucy sailor a child. Nevertheless, those vital three words reputedly spoken by Nelson as his life ebbed away must surely be taken as conclusive evidence that he did, in fact, secretly bat for the other side.

I don’t know about anybody else, but I for one think that we owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to the Walker Gallery for bringing a new and fascinating insight into the life of one of our greatest national figures.

Who and what next I wonder? ‘Margaret Thatcher was a man!’ claims controversial historian…

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-15168477/Lord-Nelson-gay-leading-gallery-says-years-speculation-hero-admirals-words.html

Nominated by: Ron Knee