Dogs are cunts. I’ve probably raised a lot of heckles just saying that, but I’m sorry – with the exception of sniffer dogs, service dogs and guide dogs, they are. They frequently bark at night when I’m trying to sleep, whenever I pass one on the pavement I usually have to either cross the road or, if it’s clear, go into the road in case the mutt in question tries to lunge at me, they smell, they slobber, they shit everywhere, they destroy property, they’re a nightmare to deal with on a paper round (which I help my mother with whenever I’m back here) from both a noise perspective and the fear that they might bite off your fingers through the letterbox, they’re dangerous and even fatal if not properly controlled, they frequently growl at people in the street, they bark aggressively at each other in the street (much to the chagrin of surrounding pedestrians), they’re extremely loud… Then there’s the whole ‘no such thing as a bad dog’ crap – fuck off! I understand that the owner does play a large role in determining a dog’s behaviour but not all dogs are the same and saying as much is just as absurd as saying that men and women are the same. I know a lot of you like dogs and I understand your reasons why, but to me they are foul, disgusting, unhygienic, annoying, vicious mutts that I want nowhere near me.

Nominated by OpinionatedCunt

Games Workshop are cunts.

So my nephew has recently decided to get into these role-playing (not the good kind) games, the sort where him and a bunch of other nerds buy little models, paint them up, pretend to be military geniuses, and generally wonder why girls won’t talk to them. OK, fine by me. He’s not my kid, and it keeps him indoors rather than out stabbing grannies, or sexting his teachers, or whatever kids his age get up to these days. Wasn’t my problem until he asked for a set of models for his birthday.

Now leaving aside what sort of cunt gets born in January, when you’re still skint from Christmas and the credit cards are due, the set he’s asked for costs £70. That’s seventy fucking quid for what turns out to be 5 tiny fucking knights on horseback. Well, ‘night mares’ as they’re officially called, which must’ve given the 50 year old virgins at GW a good laugh. Plastic knights I might add – not fucking gold. Though they might as well be gold as far as Games Workshop are concerned, since it turns out the rest of their range is equally expensive. It would have been cheaper if the little shit had taken up a coke habit instead.

Did a bit of digging around, and one of their models is – and I shit you not – £950. For a single model. Made of plastic. That you have to assemble and paint yourself. Fuck me, for £950 I’d expect the shag of a lifetime, and I’d want breakfast thrown in too.

Jesus Christ, I’m guessing the cunts at Games Workshop haven’t quite twigged that, initial startup costs and copyright infringement aside, any clever cunt with access to a half decent 3d printer and some quality plastic could buttfuck them out of existence. The only thing I’ll give them is that they’re a British company and, if anything, the rest of the world gets ripped off more than us. Utter, utter cunts.

Nominated by Le Cunt Noir

Terry Chivers is a cunt. Who, I hear you ask? Well, he’s a cunt who, without fail, writes into almost every issue of the town paper the Melksham News and frequently writes into the Wiltshire Times as well (although he doesn’t do that as often now after being heavily criticised by other readers), in order to complain about things. Now, that in of itself is irritating but nothing more – what really makes him a cunt is that when he was eventually elected as a councillor, he continued his usual habit of moaning more than Jose Mourinho whilst doing FUCK ALL to adequately address even one of the vast myriad of issues he was complaining about. He’s an all bark, no bite cunt who expects others to take action on his behalf rather than getting out there and actually doing something about it himself. Needless to say, he was voted out as a councillor in the end due to being disliked for exactly this kind of crap, the fucking cunt. Then again, given his Facebook page suggests he’s one of those eco-warrior Remoaner types I suppose it’s no surprise that he’s like this.

Nominated by OpinionatedCunt

Take my word, mice are cunts. I wage a constant war against them in my greenhouse, where they chew on anything and everything.

Recently hostilities escalated to new heights. I opened the back door a fraction and in squirmed Fatfuck our lardarse moggy, with a twisted, crazed leer on his face. I knew he had something, and chased him into the hall, pointlessly yelling ‘oi you arsehole!’. This prompted him to drop his prey, which shot off into the living room and disappeared. Yes, cats are cunts too.

So in came the traps, and a 48 hour war of nerves began. At about 1 am, I was awoken by the satisfying ‘thwaaack!’ of a trap. I leapt out of bed, only to find to my disgust that Mighty Mouse had sprung the trap and fucked off with the bait.

Next day again saw Mrs K scuttling nervously about going ‘where is it? Go and see if it’s in the bathroom’ etc ad nauseam. Needless to say I ended up losing the rag, shouting ‘look! it’s two shitting inches long and it motors about like Usain Bolt on roller skates. How the fuck am I supposed to know where it is?’. ‘Tsk’ came the reply, ‘the older you get, the worse your language becomes’.

Mercifully, next morning saw the coup de grace. The little bastard was spreadeagled, Madam la Guillotine having done her grim work. With immense satisfaction I hurled the mortal remains into the bog, and proceeded to wave them off to the coast with a friend.

And what of the fat twat responsible for causing the trouble in the first place? Well with a monumental show of indifference, it promptly retired to its spot on the sill above the radiator, where it spent most of the hours in question either snoring, scratching or sniffing its arse. Cat or mouse; I don’t know who’s the bigger cunt of the two. Bastards both.

Nominated by Ron Knee