You’d think that the Bumming Stick would have got all dusty and full of woodworm with its’ year off wouldn’t you? Well it hasn’t. Truth is I’ve been using the fucking rod of rightous justice as a makeshift pole vault in a misguided attempt to get a place on the Olympic Team. Turns out it’s not flexible enough, so I’ll have to put it back to its’ original use.
Members of the British public who are fucking stupid enough to pick up the phone and vote on Britains Got Cunts you know who you are.
Fuck the fact that the smug Duke of Cunts, Simon Cowell got caught rigging the votes for his generically boring talent shows a few years back. Fuck the fact that the only time that anybody ever remembers any of the winners is when they’re mentioned on the following years’ shows. Still you sit there and pick up the phone like the happy little fuckwit brainwashed televisual consumers you are.
‘But it’s for the Royal Variety! It Showcases Britains’ talent’ bleat the huddled fucking masses. Yes. This is my point. It turns out that this year, Britains most talented person was a fucking dog! Now I don’t watch the show personally, I’m much too busy do more interesting things like counting my fucking pubes or something, so I’m not exactly sure how talented this fucking mutt was, but surely that’s besides the point?! As far as I’m concerned the dog could calculate Pi to eighteen decimal places or quote Shakespeare, it’s still a fucking dog. Imagine how all the other cunts (sorry contestants) feel? ‘Ahh sorry, you may have a great singing voice, but you don’t eat your own shit and sniff peoples arses do you?’ To be fair I’m pretty sure that’s why Susan Boyle did so well.
So put down the phone. Refrain from voting for whatever nonsensical piece of shit you feel like you’re a part of now that that bollocks has finished. You know the drill, bend over and use those number dialling digits to pry it open. This may cause you a pain in the arse but at least it will reward you fiscally. Here comes the stick. You’re about to be bummed. Bummed by a MASSIVE STICK.
The Pope, God’s representative to the Human race, iconic symbol of faith and spiritual authority for millions of Catholics, ex cathedra sovereign ruler of Vatican City State and chief kiddy fiddler has recently issued a wise and utterly contemporary, relevant and not at all misguided or idiotic statement regarding spunk sacks.
The statement was intended to elucidate and illuminate further on his previous statement regarding cock sheathes and the spread of good and bad Aids in Africa. What makes him think that people need or even want advice regarding their sex lives from a senile, rheumy, child rape enabling old weirdo who dresses in pyjamas and wears silly hats? I’m not sure that the vast armed hordes of African rapists who have studiously ignored God’s direct commandment warning his people against the joys of extramarital clunge rutting, are even listening to him anyway. For some reason I can’t picture your average African rapist taking a minute out from his daily “no means yes”routine to free up a choking hand and slip on a rubber.
Recently, the Pope made a visit to England. Millions of pounds of tax payer’s hard earned money were spent on his security, hospitality and in ensuring a welcome was provided he would never forget. In an effort to avoid any unpleasantness, innuendo or “accidents” on behalf of the Pope and his entourage, the organisers booked an act that was as far away (whilst staying within the confines of the human race) as possible from even remotely resembling a fuckable child. Susan Boyle. “Accidents” aside, we all have to deal with the consequences of what happened last time we offered up one of our talented children to the Pope. What must the previous Pope have done to Charlotte Church for her to go from the darling, innocent “voice of angel” to the irritating, gobby, cock hungry fuck pig that she is now?
Incidentally, the Pope being God’s representative on Earth has always struck me as incredible. The immense and mind bogglingly powerful wise and benevolent being that created the universe and all we hold dear’s chooses a senile, doddering, mumbling racist as his Hand on Earth? Striking isn’t it? I mean, if this misguided, sordid old Nazi with a penchant for small children and a terribly knowledgeable grasp of how to manipulate on a mass scale is God’s right hand man on this mortal coil, what fucking selection process are they running up there?! This is another reason in what is fast becoming a long list of brilliant reasons for bumping off Simon Cowell as soon as possible. We need to get his talent for discovering cunts onto the “Pope Factor” selection board as soon as possible.
The current incumbent to the Papal throne isn’t even earning his money. Instead of wasting his time apologising for churning out generations of psychologically scarred human beings, surely he should be masterminding suicide bombings of Mecca and decreeing Papal Bulls to slaughter the masses of heathen unbelievers? This is what all the cool, hip religions are doing nowadays. I think the Pope would be a lot cooler if we saw him spreading the good word via dodgy old VHS tapes filmed on location in some urine soaked cave rather than having to listen to the dry, dusty, decrepit old cunt churn out his senseless bollocks from St Peter’s Square every time it takes his fancy.
So. For all these reasons and more, congratulations to The Pope! You are I’mamofo’s inaugural, Cunt of the Month.