No, I can’t pronounce this cunt’s name either.

The bastard shot his heavily pregnant ex-wife with a crossbow, killing her and forcing medics to save the child by an emergency caesarean op. The whole sorry episode is fucking unbelievable.

https://uk.news.yahoo.com/man-killed-pregnant-ex-wife-crossbow-jailed-life-113600760.html

Anyhow, we’ve got to keep him locked up at our expense for at least 33 years, when a length of rope would have served better.

I’d have hanged the cunt for having a name like that in the first place.

Nominated by Duke of Cuntshire

A cunting for the modish mental health issue striking down our youth, known as Eco-anxiety.

Seems like one of those weird psycho-geographical things J.G. Ballard wrote about in the 70’s, along with people becoming stranded on traffic islands for days. The BBC delight in both reporting and propagating it amongst the already frail lambs.

Telling them we have ten years to save the planet is based on political misrepresentation. If the actual scientists are to be believed, several say it’s too late to reverse climate change and we are locked in. If that is the case then we face a genuine threat from the sudden release of methane from permafrost and seabed. That will make protests about cow farts and diesel a distant memory as the atmosphere heats up by 5°c in a few years.

Liz Bonnin weeping over melting permafrost in Siberia probably doesn’t have the same emotional impact for the Kumbaya crowd as the burning rainforest for soya bean… cattle ranching, but it’s a far more abundant source of methane.

So whether you think climate change is a scam or it is real, eco-anxiety is a colossal waste of time. You can safely disregard the scaremongering, or accept that we did well to get out of the Savannah but have probably fucked ourselves.

Just stop fucking crying over it.

Nominated by Cuntamus Prime

The use of the word “Artisan” when referring to food or crafts.

It seems that not a day goes by without some wannabe, oh-so-hip and trendy, faux nerd hipster using the word “artisan” when referring to a café, restaurant or some sort of arts and crafts.

I don’t really watch television much on account of it being a load of consumerist, propagandist bollocks, but anyway, I distinctly remember flicking through the channels one night to some programme in ‘Murica where some pretentious hipster cunt had opened an “artisan vegan gelato parlour”. Not really sure how you can get vegan ice-cream unless they use coconut milk or soy milk (bleurgh).

Ever since then, all I keep seeing about the place is “artisan baker”, “artisan crafts”, “artisan” everything. I don’t know if it’s a case of because I’ve seen it I’m primed to keep seeing it everywhere, or whether it is actually everywhere.

It seems that when the word “artisan” is used, it means you can add £££ to the price of everything. To add to my argument please see link below:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=3&v=XUv7NQelex0&feature=emb_logo

I’m not sure if this is a piss take or deadly serious.

So here you go – have an “artisan” crafted cunting from me. That’ll be £15.50 please! (only joking)

Nominated by Harold Steptoe

A great big ho-ho-ho humbug of a cunting for ‘The Giving Tree’…

Just when you thought the retail festival known as Christmas couldn’t get more commercialised and cynical, there comes a new idea to prove you wrong – and just such an idea is the giving tree.

Kids hang tags on the tree saying what presents they would really like for Christmas, gullible twats take a tag and go into the shops and buy it. No OK, it goes to ‘cherity. mate’ but it’s basically still just a con to get you to part with your hard earned dosh.

Walk this way, sir, give us yer fuckin’ money…

Bah! Humbug! Cunts…

Nominated by Dioclese

UNIVERSITY OF SYDNEY STUDENTS CHARITY CALENDAR 2016. FEATURING SOME CHICKENS AND A FEW COCKS….

It’s about time for every boring “Oooh,look at us,aren’t we wacky?” group of “fundraising” narcissists to start flogging their tired shite.

In the Age of Freely Available Porn, I don’t want to see a bunch of students covering their bits with handy potted plants and I most certainly don’t want to see a bunch of wrinkly, old, coffin-dodging bags dangling their kneecap-scraping dugs while leering like Prince Andrew at a school Nativity play when the Virgin Mary comes on stage.

Think of some original way to satisfy your vanity and shove yer charity up yer arse while you’re at it.

Fuck Off.

Nominated by Dick de Pfeffel Foxchaser-Fiddler