*** Emergency Cunting *** for enforced quarantine costs for returning Brits.

The shower of shit who run our country have just announced a mandatory period of 10 days quarantine for Brits returning to their own country from certain other countries on a so-called ‘red list’. The UK wishing to protect itself by not inadvertently introducing more plague carriers is fair enough. What boils my piss is the returning Brits will be made to pay £1,750 for the privilege.

https://news.sky.com/story/covid-19-travellers-from-red-list-countries-will-have-to-pay-1-750-for-10-day-hotel-quarantine-12213267

So let me get this straight. British citizens, many of whom have likely done nothing wrong, will effectively be detained against their will for a period of 10 days and then be forced to pay the government for the costs of their own detention. Even fucking prisoners get free room and board for fucks sake.

Meanwhile, the unwashed, disease ridden, freeloading dinghy dwelling illegal scum continue to show up unannounced at Dover amongst other places. What happens? They get a sympathetic welcoming committee, free healthcare, free accommodation, free food, free whatever else they can get their parasitic hands on. And that seems to be OK apparently.

How about some of the taxes those returning Brits may have paid over the years be used to cover the costs of their effective imprisonment by their own government? Oh wait, there I go again thinking taxes paid by British tax payers should be used for the benefit of British people. Silly me. I forgot the UK is just a welfare state for the rest of the world. FOR FUCK’S SAKE! CUNTS!

Nominated by: Imitation Yank

(We had a similar nom for Matt Smallcock published a couple of days ago, but this one covers slightly different ground. Either way, he is still a cunt – DA)

A biohazard level-5, snotted pocket tissue cunting for the science of virology – guesses as to what inspired this nom on a clean tissue please!

Climatology has now been knocked off my top spot for the ‘biggest load of wank in a white lab coat’, thanks to the modern marvels of the psuedoscientific voodoo science known as virology. No doubt you’re already thinking, ‘didn’t virology help Karl with his bumder disease diagnosis?’, or, ‘it helped my mate Wogindishu in Botswanna with his terminal diagnosis!’.

It might come as a surprise that given our current situation, which is predicated on the existence of a virus, that no one has actually proven the existence of it scientifically. Wait, what? That sounds like tinfoil territory! Yeah, and it gets worse. The same flaw can be demonstrated with several other notable hysteria driven episodes: Swine Flu, Avian Flu, SARS, BSE, Polio, and the infamous HIV. The word ‘isolation’ apparently has a different dictionary definition to a virologist. Ask him to show you a clear image of the virus and all you’ll get in return is CGI graphics, or a black-and-white electron microscope image that looks about as coherent as a TV screen to a hobo after a bottle of whiskey.

Whilst the media were mesmerising you with hysteria like a cheap street magician, his mate virology was busy nabbing all your wallets. The amount of taxes pocketed by these shysters is in the trillions now. For the research into non-existent viruses, and then selling drugs back to the public that inevitably cause the damage they claim to solve e.g. Tamiflu for influenza was stockpiled in the UK and USA at considerable cost, before any efficacy was even proven, and before they realized it caused an increase in hallucinations and suicidal ideation. This has happened repeatedly in both viral research and associated drug research; no control groups, no double-blind placebo trials, conflicts of interest, etc.

They also have a habit of inspiring mass culling. Our infamous Neil Ferguson, an epidemiologist (virology’s bastard brother) with his Diane Abbott level of miscalculation, helped contribute to the frenzy over several potential epidemics, including BSE which led to the destruction of millions of cows. A necessary evil you might assume, but perhaps not when other potential causes of the disease are excluded.. such as putting an incredibly toxic organophosphate, Phosmet, on the necks of cattle for example. The toxic effects of substances are often overlooked in favour of a mythical virus that can’t be seen e.g. DDT and Lead Arsenate are linked with Polio.

If any cunters are interested in seeing how the magic trick works I’d recommend looking into the methodolgy of viral isolation, characterisation and detection using PCR.

Nominated by: The Big Chunky Cunty 

Life coaches are a bunch of cunts.

Fucking pseudo-science mumbo jumbo.

This is a quote from a life coach website.

“A coach won’t tell you what to do, instead, they will use questioning techniques to help you uncover the answers yourself.”

So basically a life coach does exactly what you can do yourself.

What a load of wank.

Client – I’m not happy with my job, what should I do?

Life Coach – What do you think you should do?

Client – Get another job?

Life Coach – Exactly. That’s £150 please.

Cunts

Nominated by: Uncle Monke

Pooch Perfect is a new dog grooming reality competition show on BBC One where professional dog stylists compete in themed challenges. It has come under fire recently for “degrading” the dogs by painting their claws and giving them a ‘pawdicure’ with red nail polish and glitter and dyeing their fur into bright colours.

Dogs are not toys or accessories to be dressed up and degraded on the whims of their stupid vacuous cunt owners. The contestants and judges seemed to be made up of trendy beard, tattooed , pierced mincing hipsters and the sort of mental bints obsessed by social media and who gives the dogs their own Twitter accounts and Instagram their every arse sniff.

I would invite them to try and give my German Shepherd a makeover and guarantee she would be shitting out top knots and nose rings the next day.

Release the Hounds!

Nominated by: Liberal Liquidator 

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-9201451/Not-Pooch-Perfect-BBC-condemned-poodles-fur-dyed.html

In the land of until awoken by me mobile at 2.30am.
“Hallo mate. Can you come and get me. They’ve kicked me out”
“( Most expletives deleted) Fuck me where are you? You didn’t go off on one? (He has a very short fuse). Nah nah. They give me three different scans all shit so nothing new there then the consultant tells me I need an operation (I know that) and they should admit me but due to so many Covid cases in the hospital it was not safe for me. If I caught anything It would definitely kill me.

I am standing in the car park outside A&E, they won’t have me in the hospital for my own safety and it’s started to rain.”

” Nice to have a consultant with a good bedside manner. Bugger me If I can manage to run the wipers in the dark I’ll get down there. What are the going to do for you?”
“They’ll send me a letter”

So I tanked up on Red Bull (on top of me medication) and motored on down. Picked him up sheltering in a bike shed next to A&E. Massive queue at A&E now standing in the rain. Nothing more conducive than a flood lit hospital car park in the rain at 3am. Which way to the gas chambers?

On the way back hit a massive pot hole hidden by the rain and the useless angle of view of such a low motor. Massive jolt up me arse and across me lungs and kidneys. Felt like an Iron Mike special (actually a very nice man out off the ring, mostly. Held back the pain to get us back and then literally fell out of the car hardly able to breath.

Crawled back home, more single malt and so to bed. Call to Quack Emergency Line, long wait, refused to speak to call handlers and nurses (just take an aspirin) and insisted on a Quack I actually knew. Eventually got a call back – could be lungs bouncing of me ribs or damage to liver or kidneys or a touch of the Princess Di’s with heart jolted out of place.

“Any black in your poo? What colour is your urine? Any blood in your snot or spit.? You need to have a scan but I would not recommend one with so much Covid in the hospital at the moment. We’ll send you letter.”
“Should I take some aspirin?”
“Don’t make me laugh”
“Only joking. Happy days”
“Wait for your letter”

Me Quack is an old cunt I have known for years and past retirement but continuing to work until he can come up with a dodge to prevent a large chunk of his massive pension being trousered by HMG. Really knows his stuff.

Will update if I live to tell. Oh yes found a lovely fracture dent in the alloy and a fucked side wall. Seriously expensive and he wants me as a witness.

Nominated by: Sir Limply Stoke