I’ve always loved chocolate biscuits; Blue Ribands, McVitie’s dark chocolate half-covered, Cadbury’s chocolate fingers… You name it, I’ll eat it.

But there’s always an exception to the rule, and in my case, that exception is the mess that is a Wagon Wheel. In the dim and distant past of my childhood, a kindly aunt once gave me one of these as a treat, which of course I was duty bound to finish.

Its particular nauseating blend of chocolate, marshmallow and biscuit was how I imagine eating sickly plasticine would taste. I’ve not eaten another in the sixty-odd years since.

That is, until today.

The wife and I are currently enjoying a few days away with the family, and earlier my elder granddaughter came up to me with cup and tea and asked ‘would you like a Wagon Wheel, grandad?’. Now I didn’t even know that these things were still made. Memory prompted me to decline the offer, but she persisted; ‘go on grandad, they’re great, you’ll love them’.

Oh well, I thought, why not? Taste can change, and perhaps I’ve been wrong for all these years, so I took a bite. Fucking hell, it was even worse than I recall. The cunts at Burton’s have heightened the nausea factor even further by putting jam into the mix. Uckityfuck!.

‘The maverick of the biscuit world, with an epic sense of adventure’, speels the Burton’s Biscuits website. You’ve got to be fucking joking. I wouldn’t eat this crap if I was offered a lifetime’s supply for free.

Nominated by: Ron Knee

The Beatles were and are cunts.
This isn’t a cunting based on their musical output and even Yoko Fucking Ono has nothing to do with this one. I can’t even blame her for this one.

They are cunts because they stabbed a mate of theirs in the back in the worst way possible and they didn’t even have the balls to tell him to his face. Not only that, they continued putting the boot into Pete Best as they ascended to fame and fortune. Attempting to justify their utterly cuntish behaviour by spreading crap like he had no sense of humour, he didn’t talk, he couldn’t play drums, which I think is all bollocks and excuses.

And who did they replace the lad with? Ringo Starr! I mean, if they had got Keith Moon or Mitch Mitchell, it would at least have been sort of understandable. But Ringo fucking Starr?! Just how bad could Pete have been? Sacking and shafting the bloke in the most dirty and cowardly way possible is bad enough, but losing his job and arguably the biggest drumming gig in history to Ringo Starr?! Talk about adding insult to injury.

They could and can yap on all they like about how they didn’t rate Best as a drummer (so, they got two solid years of bookings in German clubs and endless Cavern gigs with a shit drummer?), but the bottom line is they sacked the bloke because they were cunts. And the way they did it (or had it done) shows that they were cunts.

Also added. Paul McCartney saying Best wasn’t great as a musician, then having Linda McCartney is his band for years?! Do fuck off.

And let’s not even start on the Plastic Cunting Fucking Ono Band.

Nominated by Norman

Even their music isn’t actually that good in my opinion – admin

I nominate James Abbott-Thompson for a widely anticipated CUNTING,

The spawn of the Flabbopotamous and David Ayensu-Thompson, a Ghanaian ARCHITECT!!, who managed to endure the horror of marriage to the aforementioned Labour Shadow Home Secretary for almost two years before following tradition and abandoning his family.

As predicted, James used the mental health get out card, rather than his Mum’s default position of Race card. She sent the latterly drug addled child to fee paying School and then managed to shoehorn him into Cambridge and the Diplomatic Service, before the entitled CUNT started to get into serious drug taking (rather than architecture).

He now has “an indefinite hospital order” rather than a much deserved prison sentence and will no doubt be quietly released back into the community when it is hoped that nobody will notice.

A family of over-indulged, absolute CUNTS.

Nominated by: Sir Cuntalot 

This is a quote from Nadia Whittome MP (Lab).

‘We must not fetishise “debate” as though debate is itself an innocuous, neutral act. The very act of debate in these cases is an effective rollback of assumed equality and a foot in the door for doubt and hatred.’

It was on a Twitter post about trans rights but it’s not that that’s an issue for me. It’s the fact that she’s sees debate as a bad, and harmful, thing. In other words, she’s a fucking cunt. (in other words, she’s implying STFU if you don’t agree with me – admin)

She was elected to parliament in 2019 and shows the problem that the Labour party, as official opposition, has. People like her need to be purged from the party, not elected to parliament.

Don’t think this issue doesn’t affect other parties and the government itself, as the recent nomination of Gavin Williamson shows.

Nominated by: Dark key cunt 

A Very High Frequency cunting for Commercial Radio Adverts please.

During these ‘strange times and new normal’ whatever the fuck that means, I find myself working from home and increasingly listening to the commercial wireless radiogram, a choice of channels from Planet Rock to Classic FM. Now a lot of these stations are part of the Global Group, an organisation almost as bad as our friends the BBC, but they are commercially funded, unlike the teletax funded robbing Beeb and so this means adverts. Three in particular that get played over and over again boil my piss. Usually every 20mins and syncrhronised across the network.

HSBC, ‘We are not an Island’ this pile of fuckwittery is voiced by Sandy Tokscunt, the horrid Scandinavian dyke Harradin. To me, its an advert that tries to gee us (the listener) up post the chinese bat flu and the dark times, but is actually a pointed dig at little England post Brexit. Go to fuck HSBC and Tokscunt, last time I did geography, England was a big part of a great island.

McDonald’s adverts. Who eats that’s pile of steaming scrapes from the abattoir floor anyway? And with that fella who does the advert with his false matey mate voice coming over the airwaves every 20minutes, it boils my piss. No I don’t want a Maccy Dees fucking eggs mcflurry double cheese milk shake, you cunt. Nor I am I waiting in a drive through for the ‘privelage’

Finally, the O2 ‘Pay as you Glow’ advert, voiced by one of the dark keys or Jigaboos who can’t pronounce his words correctly and keep droppin tha last letta from most of wat he is sayin. That’s of course when you can hear anything from the vocal above the din of the jungle jive being played in the background. Not sure who this piece of radio airwaves generated excrement is aimed at, but it sure ain’t a white male who is middle aged working class and tax paying.

I’m gonna build myself a personal faraday cage to insulate me from the rape of my eardrums.

Marconi must be spinning in his grave, the cunt.

Nominated by: LeonardoDiCunty 

.. and on a very slightly different tangent, but covering the same kind of area

I want to nominate TV channel hopping, because no matter what time I do it, I always land on a commercial break, usually right at the start of the break and it goes on for a good five minutes. Then the next channel has exactly the same adverts in the same order. The exception of course being Auntie Beeb, but who wants to watch that?

Nominated by: Mystic Maven 

…. and another take from Lord Helpuss…

Daytime Digital TV ads are due for a nomination.

There are some cracking retro TV channels like Talking Pictures which shows a lot of classic films and series. Even in monochrome they are miles better than most of the modern shite we have to endure on the BBC/ITV axis. Proper scripts and stories, real stars.

One thing spoils them. The bloody adverts in between. Naturally aimed at the older viewer they consist of funeral plans, motorised buggies, bladder-leak pants,  travel insurance for fogies. Invariably, the actors depict the target audience as one step away from entering second childhood or dementia. They witter on excitedly about payouts and comparisons in a way that indicates how much they are looking forward to their own demise. They talk to each other like they have swallowed the brochures (old folk still love brochures) and are spewing out the words therein. Natural conversations they are not.

Then there are the endless charidee ads which are even more depressing. Little kids of colour drinking filthy water, tigers being shot, donkies being abused. It’s all guilt guilt how dare you sit there in your armchair with all this suffering going on? You selfish old sod. OK you’ve worked all your life, paid lots of tax but you can’t keep all your money to yourself. OK you help your kids and grandkids out but even so… give us your cash grandad.

If you are stupid enough to give in and buy an exit plan they will pester you with letters suggesting you up your premiums. Or if you give to a charidee they are such caring people that they will pass your details on to all the other begging bowl hyenas to hound you just like they did to that poor old woman who ended up giving away everything and dying in a ditch.

Yes I can mute the sound until my programme returns. I’m probably the faster muter in the east, pardner.
But I like to keep track on how truly awful these ads are. And they are BAD.