It’s just gone three pm, and I’m standing at the bus stop, waiting for the bus that was due at twelve minutes to the hour. No sign of it of course, nor of the one that was due on the hour. No wonder people are so reluctant to get out of their cars and onto public transport. That goes double when you’re sunk in the depths of a fucking cheerless December.

Speaking of cars, I’m on the way to the garage to retrieve ours, where it’s been to get body repairs after the wife banjoed it for the third time this year. I won £500 on the Premium Bonds earlier this month, guess what I’m spending my winnings on. The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away. It’s really enhanced my good humour has that.

I’m not feeling great physically; I’ve got a persistently dripping nose, a headache, and my throat feels as though it’s been sandpapered. I’m starting to cough as well. Some vicious winter lurgy bug has got its vile tentacles into me I fear, an all too frequent occurrence at this time of year.

I feel low mentally too, it’s the sort of day to kill any sense of enjoyment. The light’s fading fast, although it was never anything other than dull and dreary to start with. If we’ve not hit freezing point yet we’re not far from it, and a miserable, keening wind is driving the sleet that’s begun to fall. I can’t stop shivering, can’t feel any warmth in my hands and feet.

And you’ll hear people say how much they love this time of year; ‘oh I just love to get in, pull the curtains and put the fire on, make a nice pot of tea, and settle in to watch Corrie’. Cosmic. Then you’ve got the hearty types, who’ll tell you how bracing it is, breathing in the refreshing freezing air after the debilitating heat of a British summer. Yeah right.

My, and there’s months of this dreekness ahead of us to endure before there’s another chance to sit in the garden with a nice glass of wine, just savouring the summer. I can’t wait to get to Gran Canaria for a bit of sun and warmth, for the chance to ditch the deep winter blues for a while. You can stick the winter in that other place where the sun don’t shine.

Give me an Em… ‘Whoa baby I got them deep winter blues

nhs

Nominated by Ron Knee.

From all of us at Admin Mansions, to all cunters everywhere…

– ISAC Admin Team

Guaranteed to lose at least a stone in 24 hrs. C.A.

I would like to cunt a product called Movi-prep, for my fellow cunters who haven’t had the pleasure of this yet I will enlighten you.
Movi-prep is the chemical feast that you are given to clean you out before a colonoscapie.
So it begins with two sets of sachets that you mix into a whole litre of water and then drink, so it’s lemon flavoured slimy shit that makes you want to gag, but if you don’t keep it down, it won’t do it’s job and you can’t have your procedure done.
10 mins into holding this down, the stomach rumbling, gurgling, burping, farting starts, followed a quick carefull skip to the loo, so soon does your arse touch the seat, FUCKING WOOSH, the game begins, the whole world drops out of your arse, stuff I ate in 1985 arrived, you are literally wrung out like a fucking chamois leather, it’s like emptying an old radiator, the slightest move sparks it all off again, on the bog for 3 hours, then you stay close to the loo in the featal position just incase another shit attack is imminent, you can’t sleep just in case.
Day 2, 5 am another litre of Movi-prep, 20 minutes later rinse and repeat, it’s just liquid under pressure at this point, I’m losing the will to live, by now I’m just a costume of a man that can be hung on the back of a door.
The colonoscapie, that in all fairness was a doddle, compared to the fucking prep, once that’s done it’s time to eat, except now you have the fear that your arse may explode at any point, I’m scared to death of a sneeze or steps, or even getting in or out of the car….
Happy Xmass guys, preparation is everything….

Nominated by Fuglyucker.

It’s comforting to know that our hard-working MPs will once again be tucked up nice and warm in their homes for another winter, courtesy of UK taxpayers.

independent

Of course some of our pensioners won’t be so lucky now that our munificent government has taken the axe to the Winter Fuel Payment, after swearing blind before the general election that it wouldn’t.

Still, our suffering pensioners can heart from the fact that their sacrifice will enable old ‘TwoTierNeverHereFreeGear’ and his band of rogues to continue spending
billions on setting up illegal migrants in comfort, not to mention sending more billions in freebies abroad.

I’m just surprised that they didn’t do away with the £10 Christmas bonus while they were about it. Still, there’s always next year for that. All together now…

youtube

Nominated by Ron Knee.

Ignorant school drop-out Angela Rayner has only one area of expertise – dropping her knickers, boasting about getting pregnant at 15, her daughter carrying on the family tradition, and stealing the husband of Mrs. Tarry, then dropping him (the only one we know about). She is a coarse, vulgar whore, the sort of street woman that not that many years ago you could have “had” for a pound or thirty shillings in Portsmouth docks.

Why on earth then does Dame Kweer allow her to decimate the English countryside – the only bit of our heritage not ruined beyond repair by successive governments of both colours.

We all know why this scabby, bow legged raddled walking STD has been allowed to do it, and that is to provide housing for the illegal immigrants that have already arrived, and will continue to rise under the flabby faced brainless cunt of a Prime Minister, who with his greasy white makeup looks like an embalmed corpse.

Labour scum. I’d say fuck her, but far too many already have.

bbcnews

Nominated by W C Boggs.