Modern football is a load of cunt.

Of course, we already know this. But isn’t what is happening at Wrexham as ridiculous and as as much of a circus as it gets? Hollywood luvvie types, Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney are now owners of Wrexham FC.

First of all, why? And secondly, where will Wrexham be when the novelty wears off for both them and for Reynolds and errr Thingy? Reynolds gushed in true Hollywood OTT style ‘I am never sleeping again! Ever! Ever! Ever!’ after a 2-2 draw at Maidenhead (for fuck’s sake). The actors were accompanied to the match by a crew filming their every move. I bet they fucking were. It wouldn’t be done to just be like normal fans. would it? And of course, some (but not all) Wrexham fans lapped it up and licked their celeb arses. One such cunt (some pub landlord) was all over Reynolds like a rash and drooling to BBC News. Pathetic.

I am naturally wary of all Hollywood celebrity Septics who claim to love ‘soccer’, but this is taking the piss. The national game as a plaything for dodgy Ivan oligarchs, Florida carpetbaggers like the Glazers, and gulf state fascists is bad enough. But now the Hollywood cunts have got a sniff of it and things can only get worse.

Can anybody else see this lasting? Can anybody see Reynolds and err the other one in the piss rain at a January FA Cup tie in a couple of years time? No, me neither. What a shameless stunt and what a pair of smug cunts.

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Nominated by: Norman

I cannot fucking stand it. The big build up to the BBC annual shitfest that is Children in Need.

It’s bad enough that we have to tolerate the substandard rubbish that will be masquerading as entertainment on the night itself. At least we can turn that off, but the big build up…..jeez it goes on and on and on. Rammed down our throats.

Our kids are brainwashed in school and forced to take part in this crap. The chuggers are out in the streets rattling their big red buckets. You can’t get into work without being accosted on the doorstep. This year the cunts are even knocking on doors.

One chugger cunt even called me a “tight fisted shit” when I told him I wasn’t interested in donating.

It’s all part of the Christmas build up when charities go into overdrive to part us from our hard earned dosh. Their message is simple. It’s the season of good will when we should think of our fellow man, so give us your money.

Well my fellow man doesn’t give a shit about me, so as far as I’m concerned he can fuck right off and preferably take fucking Pudsey with him.

Christ how I hate that bloody bear…

Nominated by Dioclese

Is it possible that this cunt could be any more of a cunt than everybody knows he already is?

Well, yes actually! The alleged Tax-dodger has been bragging about how he’s going to take yet another poor refugee into his mansion.

You remember the first one don’t you? The one who left a letter for St Gary thanking him for his saintliness written in perfect English with the kind of handwriting which you only find in English public schools. Not that i’m suggesting that some posh cunt at the BBC wrote it. Oh no, not me.

Anyway Gary doesn’t understand why us Nazis don’t like the poor refugees who have “been bombed and risking their lives crossing the Channel in dinghies.” Sorry, who the fuck is bombing them in France Gary? I bet it’s that cunt Macron innit? Tell us all about it Gary…..I can’t wait to hear your grasp on geo politics you fucking genius.

What a fucking wanker.

Nominated by: Freddie the Frog

Helpful link provided by: Cuntybollocks

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Fucks Sake..why should Britain tremble when we’ve got Cunts prepared to give their dog anything so utterly fucking ridiculous..whipped fucking cream for a fucking dog indeed.

The stupid plastic-looking tart should stop whinging about her mental health and shove her Starbucks coffee,pupachino and dog biscuit up her arse.

The poor dog probably died of fucking shame and I don’t blame it… the thought of a lifetime spent in the company of that vacuous tart was obviously more than it could stand.

Link to story.

Nominated by: Dick Foxchaser-Fiddler

Another vocal viral infection from yankland to work alongside “That’s a great question’. Arrived via American TV news and soon spread on the vacuous UK 24/7 TV News cycle. Works as below.

In this example news is broken of the latest atrocities in Palmyra Syria by the spectacularly brutal Russian mercenaries known as the Wagner Group led by one Yevgeny Prigozhin, a close mucker of Comrade Putin. Yevgeny is wearing full military fatigues and a gentle smile while a hatchet faced News Bimbo with dark roots left fashionably showing through her blond dye job puts him to the question.

News Bimbo (appalled): “Yevgeny Prigozhin – there is cell phone footage circulating of your men under your command beating a Syrian civilian then taking a sledgehammer to his bollocks and then decapitating him, pouring petrol over his body and then setting light to it while they pose for selfies. How can you possibly justify such depraved violation of a human being before you hacked his head off?”

Yevgeny (totally unfazed and smiling politely) “Thank you for having me.”

Phrase sound familiar? Drummed into one by the mater as GOOD MANNERS.

Remember that in the ‘50s? Adolescent parties where the parents would retreat for the evening and leave the house to their Little Johnny and his friends. Would only do it if their Little Johnny had no friends as a bribe to find him some chums.

Always a good reason why L J had problems in the human interface department and was considered a sneak and a wanker. (Yours Truly was never allowed parties at home except in the Deb season).

Debs? You low brow cunts. Debs or debutants are spiffingly fragrant young gels of an age to hook a fine young man of refined breeding. Hormones Cunters. In short a high class marriage mart.

To continue. Little Johnny’s mum gets on the blower to the the other mums or sends fragrant little notelets out to those without blowers (this is the ’50s). RSVP donchaknow.

Sure as eggs is eggs word gets out to more unsavoury quarters. You remember those boys at Prep. Lumsden with the pink wobbly arse, not safe in the showers with him. The Grice twins forever in a brotherly embrace. Spots, the big lad covered in acne whose brows meet in the middle and forever wanking into his desk when Miss Brooks was teaching. Oh yes Best Days of your life.

End a long story Little Johnny lets ‘em all in, too scared not to including half the Hells Angels, South London Chapter. Needless all sorts of shenanigans take place. Grice Twins bollock wrestling in the bathroom, Angels drinking the old man’s spirits and pissing all over the carpet – to be fair cannot get in the khazi due to the Grice Twins sporting contest. Some HooRays go around the place ripping up the cushions and pillows aided by the Angels and for our supporters of the LGBT Community (unknown then) Little Johnny comes out as a raving woofter and proves it.

Then LJ decides it’s time to liven up the party and starts playing his parents Edmundo Ross 78s and a conga line soon forms (we did that sort of thing in the ‘50s) led by Yours Truly right up to the mater’s knicker draw. ‘50s knickers were very frilly. Shoot your load and vacate space for the next fellow was the form. Came the return of The Parents and time to stiffen and bow like a good little man, deliver the line good manners to fuck orf sharpish.

“Thank you for having me” or at least that’s how I remember it.

Please note absolutely no resemblance to any individuals living or cacked implied or intended

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Nominated by: Sir Limply Stoke