This is a bit of a weird one and no doubt stupid and irrelevant to most, but I need to cunt stickers…
Why do manufacturing or retail cunts feel the need to stick fucking paper stickers (that don’t peel off) onto everything I fucking buy? It’s boiling my piss.

I recently moved into a new place. As I’d just lived in house shares down south, I only had my bedroom to worry about, so when I moved in I had to buy a house load of stuff.
Everything I bought had (and in many cases still has) stickers in stupid places that don’t peel off…

I bought furniture … stickers on the drawers and the top. After lots of swearing and huffing I ended up with loads of bits of ripped paper and sticky gum on my new stuff.
Cutlery … stickers.
Plates, cups, table lamps, washing machine, fridge … stickers. (wm and fridge did peel off to be fair).
Sofas and armchairs… stickers.
There was even one on the front of the fucking kettle. It came in a fucking box for fucks sake. Why the fuck is there a sticker on the front? Apparently 1.7 litres is the maximum that the kettle will hold. IT HAS THAT PRINTED ON THE FUCKING THING ALREADY YOU CUNTS.
I even bought a lemon sqeezer, like a garlic mincer but for lemons. It has some small holes in it to let the juice out. Some cunt stuck a paper sticker over the holes. Fucking thing wouldn’t peel off, just ripped, and when I did finally get the paper part off, the thing was still covered in sticky gum that won’t come off … even with a fucking scourer.

No doubt when they bury me some cunt will stick a fucking sticker on the front of my coffin and the grave stone will obviously need a paper sticker with a fucking bar code on it.

Cuntitude.

Nominated by Deploy The Sausage

Another cunting for fatties. This time for fat cunts in the army.
I was shocked when I read this story:

https://www.google.co.uk/amp/s/www.thesun.co.uk/news/8289132/soldiers-army-chiefs-lessons-healthy-eating-obese-squaddies/amp/

Now I know how these media twats like to exaggerate everything. I’m sure that 1 in 5 of our soldiers aren’t “obese”. I suspect most of us that don’t live on lettuce and dress in stupid lycra costumes and run and cycle every morning will be classed as obese, but I’m somewhat disturbed by the notion that ANY soldier in the British army is not healthy and fighting fit.

How the fuck can they be expected to run across no man’s land or yomp across the Falklands if the fat cunt can’t even walk to the fucking shops.
What, they just going to let the rest of the soldiers do the marching, fighting and heavy work while the fatties plod up the rear, wheezing and sweating.

Apparently the fat cunts are even giving dietary advice to other soldiers…
Yea coz we’re all gonna take advice about responsible drinking from an alcoholic or advice on how to treat women from a fucking rapist.
Nutrition advice from a fucking sweating, wheezing, wobbling, mound of blubber…
Fuck off.

I guess I can’t slag em off too much. It’d be a bit too much of pot & kettle, I’m getting a bit podgy (especially round the gut), but I’m not a soldier.
The freedom of our country doesn’t rest on my shoulders (lucky for all of us).
Our security, prosperity, freedom and entire way of life relies on our soldiers being the best in the world. The best trained, the best armed and the fittest. How the fuck can top brass allow any soldier to get to TWENTY FIVE FUCKING STONE?!
How can a soldier even reach that weight?
I’ve never been in the forces so maybe I’m being ignorant but aren’t soldiers required to do physical training every day?
Isn’t the food they eat supplied by the army?
Aren’t higher ranks required to be as fit or more fit than their subordinates?
I’m confused.

I do worry about our armed forces, as well as our entire society. In fact our entire civilization.
First crying, hugging, praying, taking orders from the Muslim council, trannys and wimminz on the front lines, and now fatties…..
Am I missing something here?

I think a change in leadership is called for.

Nominated by Deploy The Sausage

GREEDY BILLIONAIRE BUSINESSMEN (or women, but it is usally men, the fuckers)

I have just made the mistake of reading yet another Brexit-based story, which has wound me the hell up, big style.

Some cunt named Jim Ratcliffe, who is apparently Britain’s richest man and a ‘prominent Brexiteer’ is planning to leave the UK in order to put more money in his ever-so-dwindling coffers. He is apparently set to move to Monaco in order to avoid the taxman, which will land him and two other greedy ‘Senior Executive’ motherfuckers at his chemical company, between £1bn and £10bn of tax-free cash.

Let’s not worry about the great unwashed struggling to pay bills yet still paying their full share of taxes. Let’s not worry about denying billions that could go towards the struggling shitfest that is the NHS. Let’s not worry about social care for the elderly so they can remain in their own homes which they grafted years to buy.

Let’s just worry about the fact that a £45bn turnover a year company owner and his faithful, arse-licking hangers-on may be a wee bit short in money and not be able to afford their next yacht, so will have to feather their own nests and fuck off to the land of milk and honey.

This Northern twat has quite obviously become so far removed from his roots as a joiner’s son, who reportedly grew up in a council estate, that his concept of the word ‘hardship’ has escaped him. What rubs even more salt into the wound is that he SUPPORTED the leave campaign (but only mentioning how terribly the EU’s green taxes and labour and energy laws are choking chemical companies) and now here he is FUCKING OFF OUT OF THE UK to save himself money and cut off much needed revenue.

Hypocrisy is not a big enough word for this grabbing shitbag.

Another perfect example of sheer greed is James Dyson, he of the posh hoovers that you need to take out a fucking second mortgage to purchase, who also announced recently he is relocating his Head Office to the Far East to make ends meet as he is just a tad bit down on his luck with a net worth of only £5bn.

The icing on the cake is that both of these fuckers have been KNIGHTED of course. It is truly laughable, if it didn’t make you actually want to fucking scream that is.

AVARICIOUS, CYNICAL CUNTS!!

Nominated by Nurse Cunty

Fathers who call their sons ‘mate’ need a place on ISAC. The kid has got a name you tossers. It’s usually tattooed chavvy types who do this, whilst the mothers call their daughters ‘babe’. Mind you, what’s worse? Tyler and Chardonnay, or mate and babe?

Nominated by Mystic Maven

Hold the front page please for a long overdue cunting of that most risible of newspapers The New European, edited by one Matt Kelly, 49 going on 17, who, with his beard and gaunt expression looks as though he spends his nights sleeping on a park bench, and turns his one pair of keks inside out once a week in the hope that the shit stains will rub off. Although the circulation has dwindled from 40,000 to 20,000 since its inception it is allowed to mither on spewing its pro EU lies and propaganda.

Just look at this dreadful puff-piece:-

https://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/the-new-european-matt-kelly-brexit_uk_58dd52e0e4b0e6ac7093576d

No doubt Mangledbum, Grieve, Blair and co enjoy the prospect of wanking over each fresh new issue as it drops through the letterbox with the Guardian, but it seems to be a circle jerk for all pretentious wankers, who according to Kelly, send him photos of their pathetic selves reading his shitrag over a croissant and coffee, just to show “how European” they are.

Editor at large is that former porn writer turned piss artist, Alistair Campbell who “knows everybody from Clinton down” according to trendy Mr. Kelly (shouldn’t that be everyone from Clinton UP?)

This Canute paper is bankrolled by Archant, who own, and have closed, many local newspaper titles (no doubt in part to fund this wretched posers and poofters status symbol).

You usually find a few dog-eared copies in any and every W. H. Smith and Sainsburys every day of the week (Lord Sainsbury is another famous Anthony Blair arsecrawler, as well he might be, as Blair gave him a job as Science Minister, where he was able to put aside his conflict of interests, of course), because the fucking rag just doesn’t sell, except to a few snowflake pansies who like to show off in the coffee shop or the train. Still it must save Smiths and Sainsburys a few quid each week in toilet paper, which is about all it is good for.

I am sure our hardworking backbench MPs look forward to fifteen minutes in the bog with their New European and a jar of handcream to enjoy a good wank – probably the hardest thing they do that day. Motherfuckers!

Nominated by W C Boggs