I suppose that when your one claim to ‘celebrity’ status is that you’re famous for being famous, you live or die by the amount of publicity you can generate in order to stay in the public eye.
Over the years, there’s been no one more dedicated to the cause of self-publicity than our own dear Katie Price, but her latest effort is a bit of a horror show even by her own dubious standards.
Our Kate has recently been to Turkey for her umpteenth ‘cosmetic procedure’, this time to get herself another new set of piano key gnashers. Par for the course, you might think, except that this time her rabid lust for self-promotion has led to her releasing film of the event that does her no favours whatsoever. Some might go so far as to label the film as little short of nightmarish;

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uv1xJzS3wsM

So is this pure narcissism, or just the actions of someone desperately trying to stay relevant? Well you tell me; why anyone whose fortune depends on the promotion of an outrageously ‘glamorous’ image would post pictures making herself look like the Bride of Dracula is beyond me.

What a sad twat.

Nominated by: Ron Knee

With further evidence presented by: Gutstick Japseye

This fucking Trollop is never out of the ‘news’, as she totters and fucks her way through her empty existence. If she’s not having custody battles with the fathers of her many offspring (except Harvey, I don’t think his scumbag father cares if he lives or dies), traffic violations, bankruptcies or even who she’s banging that week, the gutter press report every pathetic detail of her life, probably copied straight from her social media.

Of late she’s sunk to new lows. Poor Harvey was in hospital on deaths door, so while she had someone to look after him, she decided to have a quick holiday to Turkey, where twats like her go to have new tits, teeth and hair. Definitely mother of the year material.

Harvey survived, and to celebrate, she went back on holiday, not with him, obviously, but took some of her brood, and whoever she’s fucking that week. While on holiday, the stupid slag managed to break both ankles, and is now confined to a wheelchair. It’s the first time in years that her ankles have been that close together, as she is either being fucked, or pulling kids out of her.

Basically, I’m almost as sick of the sight of the duck faced plastic tart as I am of the fucking Markles.

There is an advert for Just Eat which shows a blinged up bleck pimp surrounded by ho’s.
What exactly did the Tristrams and Jemimas of whichever creative London agency have in mind?

Is the target audience the dimmer members of the chiggun demographic who set their sights above rap and architecture as aspiring pimps?

Do the ad agencies look at the other ads and think the UK population is now predominantly bleck?

Did Jemima and Tristram not realise that this stereotype is probably offensive to any decent blecks not taken in by BLM horseshit?

Would any fucker watching outside of the dimmer chiggun demographic want to identify with this repulsive pimp?

Perhaps they will come up with a cute little mannequin for Jam as their next brain wave.

Nominated by: Cuntstable Cuntbubble 

And seconded by: El Spazmo

A cunt of an idea. It’s a delivery service for idle, fat cunts that can’t be arsed going for their own junk food. What kind of fuckwit uses it? I can imagine James Corden is a regular customer.

Did somebody say just eat ?
No, they said just fuck off.

OK,  I am of an age where I associate EVs with milk floats. I was even a Saturday boy on a round (one of 3 jobs I did to earn pocket money (Cue, old Hovis TV ad music – Day Admin)) and we always had a mug of tea and a piece of cake waiting for at the nursing home (oooooh matron).

But it isn’t just that – I can’t see the logic in them. Economic? Not to buy. Even with a £2K subsidy they are darned expensive. Practical? Not if the battery (which is the size of D. Flabott’s backside) runs out leaving you stranded. Even if you reach a recharging station in time you’ll probably have to queue up and spend hours there. Range anxiety is still a real issue.  Eco-friendly? Manufacturing new cars involves massive resources. And how exactly are 30 million EVs supposed to plug into the national grid? If we all go electric how will the power plants cope?

I have an old petrol car which will take me anywhere at any time in the safe knowledge that I can refill within 5 minutes. There is no better form of personal transport. Don’t talk to me about bloody bikes – I live 10 miles from the nearest lamppost. Four wheels for me thank you.

I can see some sense in hybrids but they will also be banned from manufacture in 2035 won’t they? And they aren’t really that good when you consider that the petrol engine is lugging a huge battery around or vice versa. It’s like carrying a spare engine in the boot.

The internal combustion engine had a century of evolution and reached a very high standard of efficiency with much lower emissions and far greater economy than even 10 or 20 years ago. I think ditching it will be a shame and that EVs will struggle to be a viable alternative.

Now if we could only harness the hot air which emits from politician’s mouths (Caroline Lucas especially) then we would have a great new and inexhaustible form of energy.

Nominated by: Lord Helpuss 

James is not a cunt but he soon will be if his shitstack of a mother gets her way.

At the age of three his father filmed him saying he was a girl. “Who told you that?” he was asked . “Mummy” he replied.

Unsurprisingly the parents were divorced and given joint custody but the father has been fighting through the courts to stop his mental wife pumping the poor little cunt full of female hormones and having his bits cut off. Jesus fucking Christ!

The court, already referring to him by female pronouns, postponed the latest hearing until September, so James will be attending school wearing a dress and called “Luna”.

Fuck me sideways! I’d like to say “only in America” but this kind of lunacy (unintended pun) is happening all over the Western world. All because this mental bitch wanted a little girl.

What the fuck is going on?

(Additional Information for context – admin https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-7611057/Judge-rules-James-Youngers-dad-say-transition.html )

Foremen and Women
An extra special cunting is due for the wife. Not only her, but all the other cunts over the years who act like they think I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing – in this case Decorating the Front Room. Shades of harry Enfield’s character who was an EXPERT in every fucking thing.
While perched perilously up a ladder trying to reach some corner of a very high ceiling, and this corner in between fucking false beams, she says ‘er, you know you’ve missed a bit?’. You think ‘for fucks sake go and do one’, but being a good boy, only reply ‘yes, I know, I’m trying to get to it’.
Or, because you are doing a very high ceiling, with false beams on it, paint ocassionally drips to a floor – which IS covered with all sorts of sheets. ‘You do know you’re dripping paint?’ she says. (Of course I fucking do you stupid bint – can’t you see I’m covered in the Magmolia Vinyl? – well, that’s what I want to say!) I do say, ‘really my sweet, I’ll try to make sure it gets cleaned up’.
Then there is the black paint around doors and stuff. Having done EVERY fucking door, window frame, patio door, bookshelves, she’ll venture in and say ‘Couldn’t we have another colour?’
When this has happened at least a dozen times AND your efforts have all been mentioned to friends and family and presumably total strangers as well on Whats-Up, Face-Ache or some other cunting app, you might suggest; ‘tell you what love-of-my-life, why don’t you make a list of things that you’ve noticed and I’ll attend to them (when I’ve finished performing trapeze acts!) when I’ve finished doing this – let’s call it a snagging list’. (I really wanted to say a fucking ‘nagging’ list!) She says, ‘Oh its OK, it isn’t important, I’m sure you’ll remember!’.
Thank fuck this is THE last time I’m doing this! Father Time is catching up inexorably, and I’m afraid if I do this for much longer I’ll end up killing myself by toppling off something – knowing my luck, it won’t be from 8ft up a wobbly ladder either, it’ll probably be a foot-stool, attending to one of those fucking SNAGS!

Nominated by Mickey C