Apparently today’s generation are not spending enough time talking about one of the most basic of human functions, namely menstruation. Odd that – you would expect the old love juice and whiffy pussy to be up there in the top ten of conversation starters but evidently no longer so.

In the light of which some Swedish outfit has launched a new product, a breakfast cereal called no, not Pussy Pops or Cunt Crunch but Period Crunch. This genius offering consists of cereal moulded in the form of the female reproductive organs and coloured with extract of raspberry juice and served with milk. It then dyes the milk a distinctive red. Very tasty.

Gynaecologist Dr Shree Datta:

“I look forward to Period Crunch kickstarting conversations”

Unfortunately early studies show that conversations about periods tend to dry up and lead to irrational and manic behaviour. I would recommend the old school approach of wanging me old cunt sniffer up there and breathing deeply and savouring the aroma.

For the younger and more callow cunter about to start upon the path of sexual enlightenment may I suggest the services of a working girl who will charge £30-£50 for the honour.

Further enlightenment here: Daily Mail News Link

Nominated by: Sir Limply Stoke

(Enjoy your breakfast, cunters! – Day Admin)

I’ve no doubt ISAC may have to give this it’s own section.

So I sat through this misguided but well intended shit show.

Good mix of legends and effnic “who the fuck are they’s”

Half of Queen (the rock band – Day Admin) we okay.

Rod for some reason even though he has a massive back catalogue sang a Neil Diamond song.

Duran Duran, looking like the male equivalent “mutton dressed as lamb” and added some black woman who was shite.

It did liven up when Sam (I came second) and George (nice clean cut boy for now) came on.

Alicia Keys sang about New York.

The worst rendition of What a wonderful world I have ever heard by Celeste

Diversity (with lack of white members) decided that shite dancing wasn’t enough.

Craig (who) David, did something.

Elton didn’t even turn up.

Diana Ross who I’m sure had a giant baby walker under her dress wobbled her way through a few hits

That nasty condition Bocelli singing that Paul Potts song.

Greta Attenborough banging on about the planet…hmmm wonder where the diesel gennys were running this lot were hidden.

And Charlie boy doing the Mummy joke…..again.

I did take note that with the exception of the talent of Nile Rogers There didn’t appear to be one black person in the orchestra or the crowd watching !!

All in all it was full of cunts, made by cunts for cunts.

Nominated by: Halloween Cunthook

More Jubilee news brought to you by: Sick of it

Not so much a cunting but more of an observation of what is so wrong in what was once a great city.

All over the country including London there were parties, concerts and other events to celebrate the 70 years of Elizabeth II, it may not have been to everyone’s liking but whatever your opinion it is an historic milestone.

The idea of ‘people coming together’ yes right, was supposed to produce a feeling of community and common ground but to get to the thrust of this little story…..

At a Platinum Jubilee Party in East London, true to their gangsta style culture and soot was stabbed to death just to show that no matter what ‘culture’ will always be front and centre.

Diversity is Our Strength.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-london-61696541

Whilst trying to have half an hours peace and quiet at work having my dinner in the lunch room. I’m constantly aggravated by jabbering foreigners who never come up for air.

Fuck knows what they talk about that warrants a constant stream of noise for 30 minutes.

Starting to give me indigestion the cunts. Are they trying to impress us English or something? Look at me I speak two languages.

Fuck off. Either shut the fuck up or ship out to your own country and jabber away to your hearts content.

Nominated by: Bob Frapples

Seconded by: Shackledragger cunt

I would most emphatically second this cunting.

Not only in the lunch room which also reeks of the foreign muck they eat that would kill a brown dog but also the smoking area, work stations, the fucking bogs which should be a sanctuary of peace whilst having a massive grog bog and the buses to and from there.

It’s even worse when they’re assorted suntanned ethnics and resort to speaking English, albeit broken or Pidgin and therefore you can sort of understand the drivel they’re prattling on about.

I’m determined now when I retire to move into a black house in the eastern Highlands surrounded by a minefield with nowt but dogs and the occasional visit by a mute whore for company.

Most embarrassing “You’re my best mate!” moments.

I had a conversation with an old friend of mine over Skype last night. We haven’t seen each other face2face in about 30 odd years, but we’ve been keeping in conversation via email for most of that time.

Anyway, he is due up here for a holiday break over in Seascale, and we promised to meet up at the local boozer for a few drinks and rekindle a few memories.

On the subject of which he reminded me of some of our outlandish drunken moments back in the 1990s/early 00s and in our mid 30s enjoying the laddish culture, lad-mags and the indie/techno/house sounds that made that era so utterly epic.

He reminded me of one particular drunken incident where we became rather indiscreet and entered the world of “You’re my best mate, you are!” And that’s when he said that I had always wanted to have a three-way lezzer sandwich with his mother (who was incredibly fit back then) and his 22 year old sister (ditto!)

He went onto say that I would have loved to see his sister munch on her mother while I took her from behind etc…

I stopped him midway to say that’s utter bullshit and where’s your proof?

Of course he couldn’t provide any. But he did say “Why don’t you ask them?” And looking across the table  I saw both his mother and sister looking back at us in amazement/shock as they were just as slightly pissed for wear!

Obviously I knew they were there from the moment we met up in the pub way back in the late 90s. But typically the consumption of alcohol does tend to make one forget not only one’s indiscretions but also who’s actually around to hear them!

Fortunately they all took it in good heart back then, even though he too was as equally pissed as myself. Unfortunately I can’t recall any “Best Mate” moments from him, but I’m sure he had some.

So that was my worst moment, or at least that I can recall. Unfortunately his mother passed away roughly 10 years ago, and his sister is married with a couple of kids. But it really is most embarrassing what drink can do to one’s private thoughts

Can anyone else recall their most embarrassment “Best Mate” confessions?

Nominated by: Technocunt