Councillor Dave Taylor is an 18-carat cunt. Dave who, I hear you ask? I am not surprised you haven’t heard of him, as this beardie weirdie scrote is a complete nonentity. Dave Taylor is a Green Party councillor from York. Indeed, he apparently once served as Mayor of this fine medieval jewel of the north.

Unfortunately, Councillor Taylor recently opened his mouth and let his arse rattle. As the nation paid tribute to the legend that was Jack Charlton, Taylor decided to pepper social media with appalling attacks on the World Cup winner and towering centre-half from Ashington. Jack was but a few hours dead, when this excuse for a public representative posted the following messages:

“Jack ‘Bloodsports’ Charlton is dead. Good”.

“I don’t think he should be lauded as some sort of hero. Fuck him”.

“Sick of the adulation of this animal abuser”.

Big Jack achieved more in one summer’s day in 1966 than this dripping pustule of a fucking scarecrow will achieve in his entire miserable life. The cunt dresses like a tramp and looks like he washes once a year, whether he needs it or not. He is entitled to his opinion on both Big Jack and field sports, but to go on an unprovoked, public attack before Jack’s body had even turned cold is loathsome and unacceptable.

Councillor Dave Taylor looks like a cunt and almost certainly acts like a cunt in forcing his wanky green agenda on anyone who’ll listen. However, it is the desecration of a great Englishman’s memory, on the day of his sad death from dementia and other illness that’s marks Taylor out as an absolute cunt of cunts.

His party should deselect him.

The very definition of the term cunt. Fuck him.

I always tell my children not to use the word ‘hate’ as a throw away comment as to really hate someone takes a lot out of you. However on this occasion ‘hate’ is the only emotion I can muster up for this cunt.

Fuck you Dave Taylor. Genuinely fuck you.

Nominated by: CuntyMcCuntface

North Manchester General Hospital are cunts.

Last time I was there (Decmber 2019) I waited four and a half hours for a blood test as the blood room was heaving (it was like General Hospital meets Zulu). But guess what? my results vanished and I have heard nothing since.

Now they say I have ‘missed’ a phone consultation. The call was supposed to be on Monday 6th July 2020. However, I first heard of it on Wednesday 8th July 2020 through the post (Wednesday afternoon I might add). The letter was sent second class on July 2nd , so it had only the Friday and the Saturday to get to me.. But with this virus thing and the post being what it is, I didn’t get it until July 8th.

What rankles me is their snotty attitude. Making out that I purposely missed the thing when I didn’t even know about it until two days later. And if they think I am going into the place when it is full of foreigners (it always is) who will not observe the social distancing rules or wear masks, they have got another thing coming. II am sick of being dicked around by this lot and not for the first time either.

Nominated by: Norman 

Sad Songs.

There are certain songs out there that, when you listen to them, trigger certain emotions/memories from your past. This usually revolves around previous relationships that either didn’t materialise, or if they did never ultimately worked out the way you would have liked.

Today, for example, I was listening to some old songs while rebuilding a HP ProLiant DL160 Gen 9 (as you do!) Next on the playlist was a song called “Can’t Stay Away From You” by Gloria Estefan, which came out way back 1987.

It’s quite an emotive song, and at the time I used to play it to death purely because I was dating a girl whom I really liked but never had the balls to get past 1st base. I left it and left it to the point where she left the company we were working for and I never saw again!

To this day I regret not being a bit more assertive. But listening to that song really hit home, and it made me think of what might have been!

There’s another song, by a folk group called Bon Iver. The song is called “Holocene”. And that too sets off similar emotions of yet another girl I never really got past 1st or 2nd base with.

I blame myself of course, for being a gutless wimp back then. But it always intrigues me how certain songs can trigger such reflective memories/emotions.

How about you? Any sad songs you care to mention?

Nominated by: Technocunt

He kneels for 8 minutes and 46 seconds in honour of a dead black fella he neither knew, or had anything remotely in common with.

Terry (deliberate misspelling) is a multimillionaire several times over; George was a man living on the bread line.

Terry lives in a rarefied bubble of fawning suckups; George never did, until recently.

Terry waxes lyrical about George; George wouldn’t have know Terry if he’d shot him in dead in the road.

The differences are many more than I can be bothered to highlight, other than Terry is a fucking “black warrior” so long as it suits his quest for public adoration.

Twat.

Nominated by: KiwiCunt 

Memory Lane…..Mother-in-Law Style.

My mother-in-law is 90 and is still mentally alert although not in great physical shape. She likes nothing better than to chat about the good old days and, out of politeness, I have to grin and listen. My main gripe is when she talks about her time as a secretary with an American car manufacturer when she was about 21, i.e. almost SEVENTY years ago. She has recalled every quirk of some long-dead Yank boss, that incident involving a blunt pencil sharpener (“It was so funny. It was a scream!”), that Christmas kiss from a sales manager (“A randy chap, he was. Scuse my French”) under the mistletoe (“Wasn’t I naughty thing in those days after a couple of sherries?”).

Mother-in-law, much as I love you, SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Nominated by: Mr Polly