Chronicles of a Cunt

Some people are born fucking stupid and others have idiocy thrust upon them. My best mates sister must be a bit of both because she’s a total fucking moron. I mean she doesn’t dribble on herself or bang the side of head when trying to count, but if her actions this weekend are anything to go by, she’d probably fit right in on one of those special buses for kids with special faces. My best mate and I rolled into his sister’s house on a Saturday afternoon following a heavy couple of days of debauchery involving  narcotics that only vets should use, two overly intelligent antipodean ladies with accents straight out of Prisoner Cell Block H and more recently two very expensive bottles of bourbon. I still stank of that nice sweaty sex smell because I hadn’t showered, Fingerbanger (I’ve changed his name to protect his identity, but he’s not fucking innocent trust me) stank of his own vomit because he’d just heaved up a bottle of expensive bourbon over the front of his shirt.

Fingerbanger had demanded that, as we were in the vicinity, we stop at his sisters house so that he could shower and try to clean himself up. Fingerbangers sister, since splitting with her husband a few years back, hangs out with a load of  fresh faced young spunk targets she knows from work. So when she invited us to a house party that  she was a little nervous about attending that night I  jumped all over the chance. When Fingerbanger came back downstairs and heard what was being proposed he was horrified. ‘What the fuck was she thinking!’ he asked. ‘Could she not see how fucked we both were?’ he quizzed. ‘Look at the fucking state of that cunt!’ he pointed out, waving an admonishing finger in my direction. I tried to look innocent, which isn’t easy when you’re clutching a half empty bottle of expensive bourbon and smell like you’ve been bollock deep in Madge Ramsey all night trust me.

With a bit of cajoling and the promise of some herbal relaxants we managed to convince Fingerbanger that contrary to his extreme paranoia and cautiousness this was actually a very good idea and so off we set.  By the time we arrived at, what can only be described as a fucking mansion, the situation had already deteriorated rapidly. I had tried to piss out of the window of his sisters car as we drove to Cuntingham Palace, when the siblings complained about my unorthodox urination I’d rested my cock neatly upon Fingerbangers’ shoulder almost causing his sister to crash the car into a tree. On arrival I’d not bothered waiting for the pair of them and had crashed every fucking gate this party had, barging unannounced through the front doors, swiping a bottle of miscellaneous spirits from the kitchen side and plopping myself next to the first human being who possessed a love hole I could find.

She was big, she kept saying she was big boned but if that was the case her massive bastard bones belonged on display in the fucking Natural History Museum. Obviously self conscious about her girth, she kept bashing on and on about her glands. To put her mind at ease I dragged her into the garage and fed her my glands for a while. Gentlemen, have you ever been in that tricky situation where it’s almost impossible to squirt your muck? I fucked this monsters’ head for about twenty minutes before giving it up for a bad job. Besides I got distracted by an axe and timber that was clearly set up for providing fire wood, I removed my top and made like a Lumberjack. A few minutes later somebody came to investigate the noise, as he entered the garage he was met by flying kindling wood and a wild eyed, half naked man entertaining a bird who looked like Barney the Friendly Dinosaur.

“Who are you?! What the hell is going on in here?!” I have to admit I was a little put out by this chaps abruptness.

“Who am I?! Who the fuck are you is the real question?” In my inebriated state I thought that my Paxman like, rapier wit and incisive comment would throw him off my scent. It didn’t.

“This is my house, what are you doing in here?!” That was enough to stop me in my tracks somewhat. I’m not some sort of yobish lout after all.

“Oh I do apologise,” I said shaking his hand as he stood there, all befuddled and shit. “I was chopping wood for you. Lovely house you have here. Have you met Barney?” I left him stood there, examining the devastation I’d left behind me. It looked like the Amazon Rainforest after the Annual Brazilian ‘Cut Down a Hectar Just for the Shit and Giggles’ event.

Not to be discouraged by my earlier failings, I took Barney by the hand and led her upstairs to the bathroom. Very spacious, and well appointed, like Grand Designs on smack. Heated towel rails, gold taps, fancy retro sink. The perfect setting for throwing one into this birds arsehole. We smooched over to the sink, I pulled her knickers off, which was like taking down the big top on the last day of the circus. In, what can only be described as a Herculian display of strength, I lifted her up onto the edge of the sink so as to obtain a better angle with which to slot it up her. It turns out I’m stronger than an antique Victorian hand basin with original fittings and that Victorians had obviously not taken into account that folk might like to balance a baby elephant on said hand basin when producing their fancy dan sanitary wear. We’ve moved on a lot since then. It shattered into a million porcelain pieces, water gushing out in a fountain from the broken stumped remains. I was so pissed off. It should have been me gushing like a fucking fountain not the bastard sink.

I made like OJ Simpson and did my best to leave the scene of the crime. I made it as far as the downstairs bog. This was a million miles away from the Lord of the Houses’ bathroom upstairs, it must have been where he makes the servants shit, I reckon. Not even a lock on the cunting door. It made for very awkward fucking, I had my cock up her arse, with one leg jammed against the door holding it shut. Twenty minutes I arsed that bird for, still struggling to seal the deal whilst swearing every time some fucker tried to open the door. There was a concentrated effort to gain entry into that toilet and eventually my leg gave way throwing me bollock deep into Barney’s ringer. I spun her around and looked over her shoulder at the long, angry snaking queue of desperate to piss party goers. As upstairs was off limits due to some cunt vandal destroying the antique Victorian sink this pisser had become the only available place to relieve oneself. I found myself staring into the eyes of Lord Cuntingham.

“You!” He was apoplectic with rage, I tried waving Barneys massive tits in his direction in an attempt to appease him, but it didn’t seem to work.

“Oh hello my dear fellow! Have you run out of wood?!”

Chucked out with my pants around my ankles and still didn’t shoot my load. Frustrated cunt.


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Weekly Bumming Stick

Easy choice this week, to be honest I’m a little surprised I haven’t pole arsed this smarmy, self righteous chinless wonder before. I’ve got half an inkling that the years of public school will have prepared this fuckers sphincter for the intrusion though, it’s going to be a bit like throwing a chipolata down the M1.

David Cameron, Current Prime Liar, leader of the Conservative Party and Officially Elected Rupert Murdoch Arse-Tounge  boy, you know who you are.

So in what has come as a complete shock to all in the fair isle it turns out the tabloid press are a bunch of lying cunts. The great British only had to pay six million to find this out too, what a fucking bargain eh? Next year I propose we set up an inquiry to find out if our politicians are a bunch of money wasting self important wank grenades. I reckon we could find out for about four million, watch the pennies and all that. What does the feckless fop decide to do with the six million quids worth of advice and recommendations? Ignore it of course.

Desperate not to offend or upset the fallacious fuckers who put him in power in the first place, Chief Cunt starts warbling and bleating about freedom of the press and the difficulty or regulating what is obviously a very difficult to regulate form of media. It’s not that hard David, if they get caught out lying fine them or throw them in prison, job fucking done. But that’s not the real problem is it? The real problem is that these smug, sanctimonious, peddlers of shit who formulate the everyday mans’ opinion on everything, from political allegiance to what fucking insect some spunk target on I’m a Cunt Get Me Out Of Here should eat next, don’t really feel like being interfered with. Best not to rock the cart and let the Liberals take the fucking rap for it eh David?

In an ironic twist, I’d wrap the stick up in rolled up old copies of the News of The World. Not to soften the blow you understand, but to add some much needed girth in case we lose the Bumming Stick for good. The only way to get passed his layers of security and eagle eyed bodyguards, would be to disguise myself as Rupert Murdoch himself and gain access to his inner sanctum. ‘Oh G’day Davey, what this me ol’ cobber? It’s just my tabloid stick. Do me a favour mate and bend over I fancy fucking you again. Yeah. With this stick. I’m gonna bum ya with this MASSIVE stick.’


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Cunt of the Month

Mother Teresa, sun-dried, shrivelled up, conker faced, table cloth wearing, dodgy saint and dead nun is our second posthumous Cunt of the Month Award winner. Yes, I know, another dead cunt and a woman again to boot! I don’t want any of you thinking I’m a misogynist or anything. It just turns out that a load of dead spunk buckets are right cunts. I can’t fucking wait for Winnie ‘put a tire around their neck and set fire to it’ Mandela to croak it. I’ll give her the award the very second the first bit of muck hits her coffin.

The previous Chief Kiddyfiddler Pope John Paul II called the sanctimonious shite gabbler ‘Blessed Teresa of Calcutta’. Which was nice. Except that most folk in Calcutta don’t remember her ever lifting a fucking finger to help in their time of need. She apparently set up a school for 5000 poor street urchins and orphans, only nobody could ever find the school or the 5000 pupils who were supposed to be attending it. They’re all probably being bummed to death by some priests somewhere. Which carries us nicely onto our next point, when the desiccated cardigan wearing witch bitch found out that one of her ‘very best friends’ had been caught with his cock jammed up an alter boys arse she was outraged… That the paedophile got fired! I mean what type of world do we live in, where a well meaning priest can’t touch up young boys?! She demanded that he be reinstated at once. He went on to abuse another eight kids. All in the name of Jesus of course you understand.

‘Hey Motherfucker! She raised a lot of money for charity, don’t be so fucking disrespectful!’ wail her contingent of fairy tale worshipping deluded admirers. Did she indeed? Well for a start; a lot of that ‘generously donated’ cash she so willingly accepted came from some of the most despised international fraudsters of her day, Maxwell, Keating and Duvalier all contributed millions of other peoples money to her ‘good cause’. When challenged about this and asked to return the money the filthy old dust bag remained stony silent. She had too. She didn’t have any of it left, she’d passed it all over to Mother Church so that they could silence the growing number of bandy legged Alter boys. Literally millions upon millions squirreled away never to be seen again. This despicable poison dwarf certainly wasn’t spending the cash on improving the orphanages that she’d set up for the poor homeless kids she professed to love so much. The squalid conditions they were housed in were little better then the streets she’d ‘saved’ them from, personally, I would have chose to stay on the streets… less chance of getting a god botherer’s cock in your bum.

The whole world seemed to fall for the fucking bullshit spouted about this backwards peddler of hate, so much so that they even awarded the dilapidated cunt a Nobel Peace Prize. A Nobel Peace Prize, for the woman who refused to give even the most basic of pain relief to the patients who were housed in her ‘Homes for the Dying’?! If you weren’t dying before you went in you fucking were the minute you stepped through the bastard doors. These places were more like horror filled torture chambers then hospices, filled with the screams of patients denied a fucking Nurofen in their time of need. Not only did she lock up the tablet box she also refused to employ any trained medical staff in her doom filled institutions on the grounds that, ‘the most beautiful gift you can give a person is that he can participate in the sufferings of Christ’. Funny that when she fell ill herself she decided to fuck the suffering idea out of the window and booked herself into the swankiest medical facilities (other) people’s money could buy. The hypocritical two-faced, withered old fuckcunt.

When she finally fucked off this mortal coil, the Chief Funnyhat Rape Enabler decide that she embodied his organisations lack of moral fibre and desperation to halt progress so much that he gave the nasty old bint a Sainthood. I mean who doesn’t like a little old Granny eh? That was sure to bring more fuckwits who could be parted from their cash to the Services on a Sunday wasn’t it? A fucking Saint!? That’s like being the largest cunt in a field of cunts situated just outside of Cuntsville.

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Jizz on a Journo – Leaky Holes

This one has been brewing for a while but due to recent events it has only just been turned into a media farce with attending fucking clown music. Julian Assange many moons ago made a few absolute cunts look like… absolute cunts in front of the watching world. Those who silently stalk the Halls of Power were suddenly thrust into the spotlight of International renown, everybody suddenly knew every word the horrible snarky fuckers had been whispering behind closed doors for years. Peoples suspicions were finally justified. We are being led around by the noses by a bunch of untrustworthy compulsive liars intent on feathering their own nests at the expense of those they swore to serve. Those fuckers who have been exposed go into a shock of self-righteous indignation and immediately try to cover their cock and balls with their big wobbly gratuity taking jazz bands.

Senator Cunt – ‘Hey this isn’t fucking fair! If I’d known people were going to hear what I said, I wouldn’t have fucking said it would I?!’

Jizzed up Journalist – ‘Look, I’d like to help you you Cunt. I really would. But I have news to sell and you looking like a two faced fuckpig in front of the World is big news right now. So unfuckinglucky.’

Senator Cunt – ‘What if I said that peoples lives were being endangered by them knowing too much truth?’

Jizzed up Journalist – ‘You’re preaching to the converted mate, I’ve been lying to the gullible fuckwits for years. But to answer your question. No. We’re still going to print whichever bits we think will sell more papers.’

Now everybody knows that politicians have extreme phobia of journalists or Fallicouscuntaphoboia to give it its proper scientific name. I mean why wouldn’t they be, those are the only shits known on the face of the planet who can out lie them. Unable to comprehend that any of this was their fault, they do what they do best, they set out to use some patsys’ to character assassinate the grassing Aussie shitface who stitched them up in the first place.

Senator Cunt – Hello, is that Sweden?

Police Constable Swede – Hej, how can I help you?

Senator Cunt – I need a favour, some prickster, whistle blowing, descendant of a convict has dropped me right in the shit. Any chance you can do him for rape?

Police Constable Swede – But he hasn’t, you know, raped anyone? The girls, they keep changing their stories, turns out they wanted his cock in them after all?

Senator Cunt – For fuck sake! He spunked up someone isn’t that enough?!

Police Constable Swede – Well if you insist, I’m sure we can rustle up some bollocks. You promise we wont come out of this looking like cunts who do your every bidding?

Senator Cunt – Of course I’m sure. Now Fucking Do It!

So Sweden now wants to speak to Assasnge regarding one torn jonny and one jonny that never turned up to play. That’s right they’re not charging him with anything, they just want a friendly little chat. This bothers the media not a jot, they sense a controversy in the making so they switch sides back to their Lords and Masters and start calling the hapless Aussie names. Rapist, sexual deviant, sex offender etc being the pick of the bunch. Sounds like my CV.

Assange quite reasonably asks Sweden to promise that, should he return there to help with their spunk sack enquiries, that they wont hand him over to the Americans who are drooling at the mouth with the thought of water boarding the Tell Tale Tit. ‘No can do I’m afraid and hey if you don’t like it maybe you’ll think twice before cream pieing in a Swede again eh Rolf?’ is the response he gets. With panic mode engaged he turns to the only people who are willing to help him. Ecuador. Yes. Ecuador.

Assange – Any chance I can hole up with you guys for a bit, Sweden are after me on behalf of their American sponsors?

Ecuador Ambassador – Hmmm it depends, what they wan’ you for?

Assange – I artex’d two birds cervix with my man paste.

Ecuador Ambassador – In that case…. Welcome! In Ecuador cock spewing up a senorita is a National pastime!

This disturbs America as Ecuador are one of those annoying little nations who wont allow themselves to be bullied, so instead they lean on the UK, who are notorious brown nosed lap dogs, to do something about it. The same Government who have been unable to eject a hook handed, fundamentalist, hate inciting, jihadist who regularly calls for the death of all British Infidels, for going on nearly three years are able to cook something up in mere days for a Swedish condom faux pas. In fact, the Brits get so annoyed at Assange’s bare backed antics that they threaten to do a repeat of the old Iranian Embassy number on Ecuador should they not play ball.

We have a stalemate. The Swedes won’t come to England to ask Assange if he really did get to fuck two birds whilst he was over there and does he know if they have any single mates? Assange wont come out to play because the UK have said the second he does it’s off to the good old U.S of A via Sweden with him for a nice bit of torture. They didn’t exactly say this, but they’re shit liars so it’s easy to read between the lines. The UK has had to admit that storming the Embassy was probably a bad idea, but that when they see Assange their going to get him. Get him good.

Stalemate is no good for our jizzed on journalists, they need more drama. ‘Whistle blowing Assange is a rapist’ they tell us, ‘he put lives in danger by forcing us to print all his revelations. People could have been hurt by those secrets coming out like that and whose fault is that?’ Well it can’t possibly be the media who made sure all the leaks obtained maximum exposure, likewise the people who actually carried out these dark deeds must also be innocent, after all it was all done in the name of God and Country. No. It’s that cocky Australian cunts fault.

So you two faced peddlers of deceit, every single one of you who has had a hand to play in this whole sorry affair, get your arm bands on and dive into this massive pool of fetid seamen and paddle like you’ve never paddled before, bathe in my cum you cunts.

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Cunt of the Month

William Hague, Foreign Secretary, baldy fucking wankhand and ex Conservative Party leader has romped home in first place in this months Cunt Award. It was touch and go for a bit, Lord Seb Coe was right behind him with a nose up his ringer but then William, the gormless cunt of a Yes man, dashed off into the lead by virtually inciting a war with another nation.

For a start lets have a quick look at this fuckwits credentials shall we? He started his career as being that cunt kid who adults thought was great because he was really interested in politics and they thought they could just shove him onto the stage at a Party Conference and pretend that they were down with the kids. Only this fuckwit was more like down syndrome with the kids. He got himself voted into position of President of the Oxford Conservative Association, which is much like being voted as the wanker with the quickest wrist action at a Pull One Off competition. He won on the grounds that he’d clean up the whole voting process and get rid of any back scratching elitism…And then promptly got caught rigging an election to get his mate a position too, literally caught stuffing false ballots into a box. He’d earned his cunt wings, which automatically qualified him to join the UK Parliament.

Time rolls by and baldyilocks gets himself voted as leader of the Conservative Party, nobody thinks to check if he’s been up to his old tricks again, but the geriatric cunts he’s up against are probably too old to give a fuck anyways. He leads his Party to one of the most devastating defeats in the history of British Politics. He is confounded by this result as he was sure that by telling the nation he used to swill fourteen pints of bitter a day as a kid would win him the vote of the ‘Normal Man’. It didn’t. They still thought he was dicksplash. He bows out of his leadership as gracefully as is possible after being creamed on more then a bukkake babe on a busman’s holiday.

Which leads us to the present day, the UK’s current leaders well known for their ‘Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full sir’ attitude, decide that this fucking bumbling buffoon is just the type of Oxford churned out failure that the nation needs to represent them on the international stage. When America get it’s panties in a twist because some Aussie fellow exposes all their double dealings, lies and criminal activities, they immediately insist that he his brought to them so that they can dole out their own brand of justice… Which is torture (TM).

But they already have egg on their faces, they can’t risk looking anymore like that Bukkake babe and so they call upon Sweden and the UK to sort out this little mess for them. Sweden tow the line by trying to question him for allegedly not putting a cum bag on his bellend.. not once but twice…Filthy Aussie Bareback Rider. Anywhere else in the world this would be called ‘Fucking without a Spermsack’. In Sweden they call it rape. Sweden, a nation that was voted the fourth in the world on a recent Democracy Index, suddenly wants to extradite a man just because he hates the smell of burning rubber. Now the UK steps up to the plate.

UK Govt: Oi Aussie! You’re gonna have to fuck off to Sweden to answer tough questions about why you spunked up two birds.

Aussie: That’s doesn’t seem fair, what if they send me to America to get tortured?

UK Govt: Errrrr, America you say? Errrr we don’t know what your talking about, this is about cum bags isn’t it? *nervous shuffle of feet and wringing of hands*

Aussie: Well if it’s all the same with you, you lap dog lying cunts I think I’ll hang out in my mates Embassy for a bit.

UK Govt: Bollocks.

This is where Haguey Baby steps up to the plate, surely as our Foreign Minister and representative of our Great and Fair Nation he’s going to inject some common sense into the whole tawdry affair? No. No, he doesn’t. He threatens to invade the Embassy and take the Aussie prisoner instead. Fuck International Law. Fuck that every embassy worldwide would become a legitimate target for attack from every passing fucknugget terrosist. Fuck that it makes the UK look like a petulant bullied child in front of the watching world. What a duplicitous bitch whipped Cunt.

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Weekly Bumming Stick

What’s the best cure for a hangover? The answer is obviously relative, it could even change based on an individual’s current circumstances. Yesterday, the only thing that could bring and end to my misery was fried chicken of the white bouffant haired, ex-military paedo variety. Couldn’t get to my local branch though because of the crowd of cunts impeding me.

Olympic loving, mob forming and unduly enthusiastic torch watching cunts blocking my way to KFC, you know who you are.

You have looked forward to this moment for months, probably marked it on the ‘Events’ section of the calendar stuck to the fridge door. You’ve dressed sensibly for the weather and whipped your progeny into a frenzy by promising a spectacular display of Olympian tradition. You’re a cunt. A deluded one at that. ‘Oooh, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity’, or, ‘Oooh we’ll never get a chance to see it again.’ What, you’ll never get a chance to see some fuckwit, drowning in a shell suit that a fucking Sumo could comfortably wear, trot past you at a snails pace with a sputtering fire on the end of a perforated golden dildo? Fucking good, as spectacles go this one is so mundane and trivial, it can cause near instantaneous narcolepsy to anybody observing it, that’s probably why they restrict us to only one viewing per lifetime.

‘But Motherfucker, it’s an ancient Greek tradition that harks back to the original Olympic Games and inspires us!’ Roar a crowd of KFC obstructing bland wankgrenades. No, it really isn’t you fucking Hitler apologists. It was a ‘tradition’ set up by the Nazi party in the 1936 games. By flooding the streets and half heartedly cheering on as come cunt trickles down the road, you are basically denying the Holocaust and saying that you agree with a couple of Jews getting bumped off. But, wait. What’s this? The torch has been passed over once again to a new bearer, this time somebody’s eighty year old, dusty holed Granny set’s off at 0.25mile an hour down the road. She should know fucking better, she was alive during World War II after all. Nazi Nan.

Sorry Granbags, but since you’re the last one holding the fucking Golden Flaming Dildo of Olympic Equality thing it’s now your responsibility to face the consequences. Let’s get you out of that circus tent sized shell suit and use your shaking old lady fingers to pry the backdoor open. Bet it’s been a while ain’t it love? What? This? No love, it’s not another torch to relay with, it’s a stick I’m going to bum you with , I’m going to bum you with this MASSIVE stick.


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Where’s that Motherfucker?

Well I finally got found, albeit by some fucking, shadowy, mysterious, enigmatic figure of undisclosed origin. So I’m off to hide again, Heh Heh come and find me if you can you gang of fucklewits!

I hate the smell of fish, I’m not so keen on the eyepatch, I feel a little safer with this life jacket on and my two new friends are teaching me how to hold a rocket launcher.

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