The whole “True love, Hollyweird movie style relationship bollocks”

Perhaps I’m cunting myself in a way due my lack of forming any sort of lasting relationship with a woman. I’ve had a few fine fillies in my time. But I’ve never met “The One” if there is such a thing outside of a hollywoke blockbuster.

Don’t have much trouble getting them but don’t seem to keep them for very long.

I’m grateful for the women that I have had the pleasure of being intimate with, but it all feels like it doesn’t matter now.

As I have mentioned on here before I once met a girl who I thought I would marry one day. Sadly it was not to be. In hindsight perhaps it was for the best.

I am still relatively young and in a good position in life. Got a bit of money, have a house of my own and a decent car. A reasonable job that earns me a good wage and some savings and investments that bring in more money (we’re talking an extra couple of grand a year, not retire at 40, tell everyone to fuck off and ride away into the sunset kind of money).

Don’t know whether its the lockdown getting to me, but I haven’t met a lass in some time that I thought was worth getting to know better. I like a classy elegant woman with a nice “middle class” accent, like Natalie Dormer, Imogen Poots or Roxanne McKee. If they have intelligence on top of that then I’m drawn to them.

Sadly, I haven’t met a woman like that in some time and I’ve a feeling I am unlikely to meet one again.

I’m at the point in my life where I feel I might as well skip marriage, kids and divorce and instead just live my life and end up some dirty old bastard like Michael Douglas. Part of me isn’t bothered about finding someone to spend my life with and part of me feels a sad not to have a lovely lady to enjoy things with and spoil a bit.

Not sure why I’m bearing my soul to you lot.Probably the anonymity of IsAC

Probably doesn’t help that I’ve had a few drinks and I’m listening to Bad Company and reminiscing about shit.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JXQJpyQBShU
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-HHJVPxvqI

Nominated by: Harold Steptoe

Is there a more irritating phrase than this?

Americans use it for women as well as – well – guys. I particularly loathe it when it appears on a Youtube travel videos. I love travelling so spend a lot of time watching these videos but as soon as I hear some voiceover saying “Hi Guys. I´m in Marseille/Warsaw/Buenos Aires/Shanghai…” I switch off.

I am not a “guy” or part of a group of “guys” and don´t need your phony friendly greeting. I don´t need it in restaurants either when my waitperson puts the plate in front of me and says “There you go guys. Enjoy”

Just fuck off and, oh yeah, have a nice day! Asshole.

Nominated by: Mr Polly 

The story so far;
Having signed a $150m. deal with Netflix to produce films and tv series, Meghan plots her new career as a Hollywood A list ‘power player’.
Now read on;

Lying on her sunbed by the side of the pool, the Duchess of Deceit narrowed her eyes against the blazing California sun and scribbled furiously onto her notepad. Lying restlessly at her side, the Half-blood Prince put down his magazine and stared down at his $1,000 designer trainers. Clearing he throat nervously, he muttered, “erm, is it alright if I tie my laces now, sweetness?”.

In spite of the heat of the day, Harry felt a cold shiver as the Princess of Perfidy swivelled her gaze onto him. “What in heck are ya talkin’ about?” she hissed.

“Ah, is it alright?”, he stammered again. “Only it says here in ‘Celebtwat’ magazine that I can’t even do my shoelaces up without your say so”.

Meagain tapped her pen against her teeth in fury at having her train of thought broken. “Do ya even know how ta do that fer yourself Harry?”, she said icily.

“Well it’s deuced hard old girl”, admitted Halfwit. “One’s used to having a menial to perform these unpleasant tasks, you know. What are you doing, anyway?”.

“Fer Gahd sakes” she muttered. “Ah’m tryin’ ta work on the media release fer the deal. Now lissen up”. The Princess of Perfidy snaked her tongue across her thin lips and began to read. “Now then… ‘our lives have allowed us to understand the power of the human spirit; of courage, resilience and the need for connection. Through our work with diverse communities, our focus will be on content that informs and gives hope. As new parents, making inspirational family programmes is also important to us… Netfix’s reach will help us to shape impactful content that unlocks action’. Mmm, so has that ticked the right boxes; ya know, worthy and virtuous enough for our A-list Tinseltown peers without sounding smug and pious, yet relatable to the common people?”.

Harry grimaced, and his eyes wandered aimlessly. “Er, well sugarlump”, he bleated, “you know I leave that sort of thingy to you…”.

“Is the right answer” murmered Meghan darkly, snaking her body on the sunbed and stretching her sparrow legs. “Meantime, I’ve bin thinkin’ about a name for the new production company, but I haven’t hit on anythin’ just right yet…”.

“I say, but I’ve got a couple of jolly ideas for the company. How about we get dear old Uncle Eddie involved? He got bags of experience at this sort of thing; ‘It’s A Royal Knockout’ and stuff…”.

“Yes, yes, we’ll see”, murmured the Mistress of Manipulation placatingly, ” but we need a name”.

“Sorted”, burbled Harry happily. “Call it ‘Brown Windsor Productions’, what?”.

“Huh?” asked Meghan vaguely, “ain’t that some kinda English soup?”.

“It’s a play on words pumpkin” wittered Halfwit, warming to his theme. “I’m the Windsor bit, you’re the Brown bit; you know, touch of the tarbrush…”.

“Jesus H. Chraast you… you…” stammered Meghan, a pulse beginning to throb menacingly on her forehead. “For Heaven’s sake, gimme some peace. Go up to the nursery and see if the child even knows who ya are. And make yerself useful. Fire the kitchen help an’ the maid. This iced soy latté is like dishwater”.

“Of course sweetness”, said Duke, leaping hastily to his feet, only to fall headfirst into the pool.

“Lissen ya idiot”, yelled the Duchess, as Halfwit sputtered to the surface. “When ya lace yer shoes, you tie the laces separately, NOT together…”.

To be continued.

Nominated by: Ron Knee

(For reference, here’s the previous Markles Tomes – DA)

Vol. 1

Vol. 2

Vol. 3

….Or more exactly cunts that keep banging on about climate change. Extinction Rebellion, Greta Thundercunt and the like.

Well it’s now early September and it’s cold, wet and windy. In fact this spell of shite weather started mid-way through August. So this year we’ve had a wet start to the thing, a dry warm lockdown spring that got every cunt and his wife out on bikes, we had a couple of hot days and some thunder and lightning in the summer and it was dry.
Now Autumn has arrived and it’s dull and wet. Again.

Mmm, Pretty much a normal set of seasons, given the vagaries of Mother Nature, in an island maritime climate, I’d offer to those unwashed, uneducated lefty anarchists. They can fuck their climate change wank, along with the hole in the ozone layer, whatever the fuck happened to that….

Nominated by: LeonardoDiCunty

I always enjoyed Hollywood bad boy Charlie Sheen´s performance as the narcissistic playboy with a house on Malibu beach, an endless stream of bimbettes and his loser brother, Alan, who was the butt of his jokes.

When Sheen was fired for slagging off the show´s producer, he was replaced by a heartthrob called Ashton Kutcher who I had never heard of. He was supposed to be a 30-something software billionaire who bought Charlie´s house and allowed Alan to stay on.

I´ve just seen some of programs with him and they are totally unfunny as Kutcher does not have an ounce of Sheen´s acting ability or charm. The plots revolve around fart jokes, slapstick “comedy” in which Alan is constantly being injured and taken to hospital and scenes in which everyone takes pot and starts giggling and laughing.
No wonder this untalented bunch are laughing. Kutcher earns US$700,000 per episode and Alan, played by Jon Cryer, gets US$620,000.

Nominated by: Mr Polly