SPOILER ALERT (in case you haven’t seen it and plan to).

I love a good Bond flick, me. Pretty much everything Ian Fleming wrote has already been used for the movies, so I accept screen writers need to come up with original plots, villains, gadgets, etc. while still using the main character, James Bond 007, as the vehicle to tell the story.

However, what makes a Bond film different from a regular spy/action movie is the tried and true Bond formula. In a nutshell, a proper Bond movie has these characteristics:

– Bond walking across the screen to the Bond music, he suddenly turns and fires a single shot towards the camera, blood trickles down and we’re off!
– Opening action sequence featuring Bond up to no good, being discovered by baddies, a hot pursuit unfolds with Bond killing a bunch of them and escaping in some crafty way;
– Opening titles with a memorable song;
– Bond shows up at MI6 and gets his mission from M, usually with a bit of cheeky banter;
– A visit to the eccentric and professorial Q for some new gadgets;
– Multiple stop offs in exotic locations complete with seduction of beautiful women from whom he extracts information;
– Lots of action (fire fights, fist fights, car chases, etc.) coupled with amazing stunts;
– Bond gets captured and brought before the big villain;
– Big villain explains exactly how their dastardly plan will prevail and sets in motion Bond’s demise;
– Bond escapes, foils the dastardly plot, snags a beautiful woman and lives to fight another day;
– Closing credits;

That’s what the Bond audience expects from a Bond movie. Did we get that this time around? Did we fuck!

– We got the single shot to camera and trickling blood, but then we’re shoved into a 24 minute opening (non-action) sequence spoken in fucking French between mother and child that doesn’t even feature Bond at all! No explanation, no context and utterly confusing. I actually thought I’d put the wrong disc in the player.

– After 24 minutes we finally get the opening titles. Graphically OK, but oh my fucking christ what am I hearing? Bond themes should be special and memorable. In the past we’ve had classics from the likes of Shirley Bassey, Rita Coolidge, Carly Simon, Lulu and Paul McCartney and Wings (and I say that as someone who absolutely hates McCartney).

The last few Bond themes though have been absolute shite. Adele (Skyfall) and Sam Smith (Spectre) both utterly dreadful and instantly forgettable. However, the bar has been lowered even further this time around with an absolute dirge of vocal diarrhea from that green haired talentless slag, Billie Eilish.

I’d avoided assaulting my ears with her output thus far, but was caught off guard when she/it started warbling over the open credits. It sounds like she was off her face on drugs. The fact this piece of aural cak is associated with Bond is a tragedy.

Moving on…
– Bond doesn’t even work for MI6 anymore. He’s retired. Then he’s hired by the CIA to grab a scientist also wanted by MI6. In an attempt to grab the scientist before the CIA does, MI6 sends in the new 007 – a black woman. No, I’m not making this up.

– As the very convoluted story unfolds and unfolds and unfolds (it’s 168 minutes long), we find out the spotty teenager Q has The Gayness (how lovely and utterly pointless to the plot), the story is actually a continuation of the previous movie Spectre, the big villain from that movie dies, Bond’s main CIA contact (Felix) dies.

– Bond now has a daughter by some blonde tart who did/didn’t/did/didn’t betray him and just when you didn’t think it could get any worse, Bond saves the day on some remote island just as Royal Navy cruise missiles rain down and kill him. That’s right – they’ve killed James Bond. FFS!

Things are wrapped up with a toast to the dead Bond in M’s office and the blonde tart is seen driving away with Bond’s daughter in his Aston. The End.

What a load of old cunt.

A very funny piss take of the stupid plot and moronic direction can be enjoyed here:

YouTube Link

Nominated by: Imitation Yank

These cunts are trying to take over the world. They’ll still be around when mankind has wiped itself out.

They shag each other all year round, but who has ever seen a wood pigeon nest or, young?

They seem to propagate in secret, then sit on top of your chimney screaming croo croooooo croo croo-croo down into the fireplace all day just to drive you insane.

First to the bird table, the uncultured bastards with no table manners scatter bread all over the place. Last year I outsmarted them by buying meal worms for the song birds that stay in Britain all winter, which they didn’t like. This year they’re eating them anyway just to piss me off.

One of the smartarses got a bit too cocky though, whilst laughing at me through the window, a sparrow hawk had him.

I can however recommend several of them baked, with mashed spuds and mushroom stuffing. Get the boot in first before they develop a taste for human flesh.

Nominated by: Duke of Cuntshire

The latest crisis, oh just wait for PMQ’s tomorrow.

A cunting for the latest fuck up surrounding No.10, notice I haven’t said Boris because much of this ‘Partygate’ is driven by the civil service however all the shit will inevitably fall on Boris.
Now I am not defending Boris and in my opinion this will be the end for him but in May 2020 how was Boris, was he firing on all cylinders having be hit quite badly by Covid.
All the focus is usually on politicians but the civil service deserves special mention, what fucking idiot would send an email (allegedly) inviting everybody to come to a little party in the garden of No.10 when the entire country was in full lockdown, the permanent Private secretary to Boris is the answer.

Why has it taken a year and a half for this story to break, is it Russian interference, who is the whistleblower, regardless of the wrongs of the alleged incident is there something rotten in the state of Denmark!

PS this is not a Covid nom! (It is a bit – NA)

There are many links I could post but here is one from the I

Party Row Story.

Nominated by: Sick of it

“Good afternoon. This is IsAC’s Health Correspondent Ron Knee speaking. New data indicates that 60% of Britons are overweight, and the New Year sees the launch of yet another government initiative aimed at tackling obesity. I’m joined by none other than The Grim Reaper himself to discuss the ramifications of this from his perspective. Now erm, Mr err, Reaper…”.

“Oh don’t stand on ceremony, old boy. All my friends call me Dave”.

“Ah, thanks Dave. So what’s your take on all this?”.

“Well I regard this as the thin end of the wedge. I mean, it’s got real implications for the job market. If people are healthier they live longer, and that affects me. I might have to put some of the boys on part time or even lay them off. It’s nothing less than restraint of trade”.

“But surely the nation should be encouraged to follow a healthier diet”.

“Yeah, but there’s ‘encouragement’ and downright interference. Take last night, for instance. I got back to the crypt after a hard day’s reaping, and I’d treated myself to an eighteen inch pizza, large portion of chips and a six pack. I’d just finished that lot, sparked up a tab and settled back to watch the big match, when the missus comes in and starts giving it large on the subject. A man can’t even escape from it in his own crib anymore”.

“Goodness. Going on a bit was she?”.

“You don’t know the half of it Ron. ‘Just look at the state of this place, chip paper everywhere’ she says. ‘And look at the state of YOU. When we got married, you was nothing more than a bag of bones, now you’re at least three stone without yer cloak and scythe. Haven’t yer heard about this new initiative? Yer need a change of lifestyle’. Christ on a bike”.

“Now that’s laying it on. What did you do?”.

“Do? I bloody told her, didn’t I? Listen, I says. ‘Change of lifestyle’ my arse. Bleeding ‘initiative’. There’s too much government busy-bodying these days. If people want to stuff junk food down their necks, balloon up to fifty stone lardarses and put yet more strain on our over-burdened health services, that’s their business. I’ll give her ‘change of lifestyle’; I’m Death, for fuck’s sake. Daft cow”.

“Mmm… so you reckon there should be less official interference in people’s lives then. Did she take your argument well?”.

“Erm… not really. I was hoping to get my leg over after the game, but she still wasn’t speaking to me this morning… *brruuup brruuup* oh hang on, better take this… hello Reg. What’s that? New Covid variant in China? Okay, be right with you. Sorry Ron, work calls. Must dash”.

“So there you have it. We did ask whether a Government spokesperson would care to comment, but were told that no-one was available as they’re all working from home. This is Ron Knee, for IsAC, returning you to the studio”.

Daily Mail News Link

Nominated by: Ron Knee

What the fuck is a love lock and why are they being cunted?

Well for the uninitiated miserable and heartless old bastards of IsAC, they are a padlock that can be fixed to a bridge or a gate or some other prominent public monument to symbolise a pair of sweethearts unbreakable love, with the key often thrown away into a river.

There are apparently hundreds of these places all over the world from Paris to Las Vegas to Dingo’s Arsehole, outback Australia. Most look a fucking eyesore, in some cases causing structural damage , health and safety issues or just taking away the architectural brilliance of something that was built by master craftsmen hundreds of years ago by adding a load of rusty locks that belong in Steptoe’s scrap yard.

Some places are embracing it of course, hoping to turn it into a tourist attraction which begs the question just how shit is the rest of the town? What will be next then, St Pauls graffitied with “Daz fingured Debs ere”.

Nominated by: Liberal Liquidator

And supported by: Cuntfinder General

I first encountered these, during a cultural (sni.gger) weekend in Liverpool. (Stop laughing at the back!?).

As reported, here:

News Link