A nomination for subscription box companies, mainly the defunct-but-rebranded Loot Crate.(https://www.lootcrate.com/)

Ive heard about this shite through some friends and online associations.

These services cater for hopeless dorks and collectors of tat by getting them to pay a monthly subscription fee for a shoebox full of merch, or goodies, or loot, or if you aren’t an awful American cunt who cries over Star Wars trailers, a box of plastic shit.

This isn’t just the regular level of geek crap, either. It’s not just plush Artoo Deetoos or Bobbleheads of Spock. It’s true miscellany. It’s the bits of plastic flotsam that weren’t bought by the parents of the underclass at the market. It’s the junky old obscure French toy at the carboot the owner thinks was called ‘Monsieur Oiseau’ that has been scraped around the bottom of the stacker box since 1982.

It’s the effluent from a factory in Macau, lodging in pools and inlets for Capuchins to chew on and stick together with sap , until a local toddler picks it up and puts it in his mouldering shoebox of disgusting playthings like the feet and heads of butchered junglefowl and some glass beads from the bracelet of a dead Australian girl.

It’s the dreck, the scrapings from the lowest our planet can offer in manufacturing and cultural quality.

The fact this sort of tat excites a glimmer in the otherwise dead eyes of the wretched recluse beta cunt, and their need to share this nadir of human existence on social media, fills me with a queasy revulsion for the sort of person I used to associate with,
Their grasping desire to acquire, for gratification of the latest wave of collectibles. The product of a kickstarter they’ve invested hundreds of pounds in, despite being semi-employed and needing bail-outs for a sharer box of McNuggets for them and the housebound missus.

The cult of the geek and their clueless embrace of hipsters who only like this muck ‘ironically’, but then find themselves chortling to a repeat of The Big Bang Theory. and buying the latest woke comic book.

The saving grace is that Loot Crate filed for Bankruptcy last year, was bought up and rebranded The Loot Company. It has 1.4 stars on Trust Pilot.

However, there are other box services delivering this childish wank that allow these cunts to ‘get their geek on’.

The whole thing makes me heave.

Nominated by: Cuntamus Prime 

Public health England are incompetent cunts.

Turns out the twats have been including in the kung flu death statistics everyone who has tested positive for China pox even if they died of something else. This is thousands of people. These fuckers who spend their lives nagging the population have shown themselves to be entirely pointless.

That’s 5000 people, with plenty paid more than Boris, who should get the sack. Cunts.

Nominated by: Smug cunt

The story so far; Meghan, Duchess of Deceit, continues to plot her step-by-step climb to wealth and power. Now read on.

“Let me see”, said Meagain, glowering maliciously at her computer. “Marry a dim prince… check. Have royal baby… check. Claim victimhood status and flee to LA mansion… check. Next, a blockbuster book dissin’ them Windsor bastards *cackle*. It’ll soon be out!”.

At those last words, her husband, Prince Harry de Halfwit, dropped his “Beano” and leapt up. “What’ll soon be out, lambkins?” he leered gormlessly. “Is it time for Mr Wiggly to pop out again?”.

“Oh for…” hissed the Mistress of Malice. Forcing herself to be calm, she twisted her face into a grimace of a smile cold enough to freeze the River of Hades. “No my love” she gushed. “With so much to occupy you, you’ve forgotten about our book, ‘Finding Freedom’. It’s about our escape from conformity and exploitation in the UK, to a new life of riches and opportunity in the land of the free”.

“What, with your mater living with us? *haw haw* ” he guffawed. “Just my little joke, petal”, he added hastily. “But dash it, old girl, I hope you’ve not put anything in it to offend grandmama. We’re down to our last fifty million, and the pater might cut us off without a bean”. The Prince of Sighs shuffled uneasily and scratched his bald spot. “I say”, he blurted. “Ain’t it written by that johnny Obid Scoobydo or whatnot? He’s a proper odd looking cove if you ask me…”.

“Heavens, keep ya voice down”, snarled the Princess of Perfidy. We’re the Duke and Duchess of Diversity remember! Talk like that could ruin The Plan!”.

“Sorrers an’ all that rot”, bleated the Half-blood Prince guiltily. “Erm… what plan is that, my little pumpkin?”.

The’s Duchess’s eyes focussed on him like lasers. “Why, to be POTUS, of course!”, she said, her tongue flicking greedily across her glossy lips.

“Ah”, said Halfwit blankly. “Erm… *a-hem* what exactly is a POTUS, my pet?”.

“Jesus H Chraast, Harry”, snarled Meghan. “President. Of. The. United. States.”.

“But why can’t I be President?” whined the Duke sulkily. “I’m the chap here, you know, even if you do wear the trysers. I want to fly about in that big jet, and get driven around in limosines, and have even more flunkies, and lecture the common people about the climate and stuff while they pay all the bills…”.

“You’ll do all that at my side”, oozed the Madame of Manipulation. “You’ll be *cough* ‘First Lady’ or something, and redecorate the White House. Don’t worry about it and remember our arrangement. I’ll do the thinking, and you don’t”.

“If you say so, heart’s delight”, bleated the Duke Of Dim doubtfully. Then his guileless features brightened. “Isn’t it aboyt time for Mr Wiggly to play now?”.

“Oh Jesus”, whispered the Duchess, rapidly glancing at her diary. “I can give you fifteen minutes now”, she said grudgingly, but that’ll be all until Christmas. I’ve got a coast-to-coast book-signing and tv schedule to plan”.

“I say, look here”, said Halfwit indignantly. “Christmas, you say? That’s not the kind of thing a chap wants to hear when a chap gets married…”.

To be continued….

Nominated by: Ron Knee

(not sure if this is an actual nomination or a bedtime story? But well done anyway, Ron – admin)

It looks like we’ve finally got our (least) favourite little Communist agitator in checkmate. Feast your eyes on today’s opinion piece from him and pay special attention to the caption below the photo:
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/jul/29/twitter-boycott-racism-social-media-wiley-newspapers
Afterall “they all look the same, don’t they?!” Priceless!!!

Nominated by: Cunt me in 

(Couldn’t have happened to a nicer cunt! – admin)

I’ve been meaning to do this nomination for quite some time, and now I’ve finally got around to it. Walts are cunts.

For those who don’t know, a Walt is someone who pretends to be either serving military or a veteran without ever having served. It’s short for Walter Mitty. Some of them go as far as buying medals and regimental blazers, which they turn up to Remembrance Day parades wearing. Some of the more malicious ones pretend to be collecting for a military charity, often some bullshit one that they’ve made up. I find these cunts as offensive as SJW’s find normal people. More, actually.

A good example of this was the cunt who came into a pub that my wife and I were having lunch in, along with some old Army friends, a couple of years ago. He was pretending to be a Royal Marine, dressed in the current MTP (multi terrain pattern) uniform, with a 2 Lt’s rank tab. He was collecting money for a Marine charity that he’d made up. Straight away, my friends and I could tell that he was Walt. He was wearing Velcro Royal Marines Commando shoulder flashes just above his elbow. The clue is in the name, SHOULDER flashes. Those things are worn with pride and no commando, Marine or Army, would ever make that mistake.

There were other details too. Most people don’t know this, and he clearly didn’t, but British military berets are designed to be shrunk and shaped. His hadn’t and looked like a fucking helicopter landing pad. Also, it was the wrong shade of green. The commando beret is Lovatt green, after Lord Lovatt, the first CO of the commandos. This prick was wearing a pale green beret. He didn’t look like your typical Rupert either. In fact, he looked like a junkie. And the look on his fucked up face when I and one of my friends told him that we’d actually been commandos was one of sheer panic. He told us that he was retired now, but had served 18 years. So my mate asked if he’d enlisted and then got a commission. He said that he’d gone in as an officer, which is complete bullshit. NOBODY serves that long without getting promoted. You either get promoted, or binned.

The biggest give away though, was the rosary tattooed on his right hand with the cross between his thumb and forefinger. It was obviously an old tattoo, and had he actually served, he would have known that tats below the wrist are verboten under military regulations. And I have yet to meet a serving Rupert who had a tattoo below the elbow.
We told him that we knew he wasn’t a genuine veteran, and probably hadn’t served a day in his life, at which point he became aggressive and started to make threats, which was pretty dumb considering five of our eight person group were real veterans.

I was quite happy to take it outside. Unfortunately the pub’s manager had seen what was happening, and that things were getting heated. He become concerned enough to call plod. They turned up and escorted the cunt out of the pub. I don’t know what compels people like this to pretend they’re something they’re not, and I don’t care. It’s wrong. It’s offensive to actual veterans and serving personnel. And if you’re one of these people, you’re an utter cunt!

Nominated by: Quick Draw McGraw