Saturday, 28 February 2009

It's Never His Fault

From the Daily Twatlegraph:

Brainless twat riding mobility scooter takes yet another wrong turn and ends up on dual carriageway
Apparently a senile fat twat from Westminster had popped out to pick up some incontinence pants and a tin of foie gras from his local paki shop but lost his way and ended up on a road to nowhere. Not an uncommon incident by all accounts.

Undaunted by everything going on around him the stupid old pant wetter continued on, regardless of anyone or anything around him, determined to reach his goal whatever the consequences.

He was eventually spotted by a well to do man who was riding in the back of a Rolls Royce at the time. The car pulled along side and the inappropriate looking chap wound down his blacked out window and beckoned him over. "It appears that you have lost your way again, can I give you a ride?" He said, looking over his spectacles. "I'm on my way to ManMuncher and I'll let you suck my lollipop if you like."

"Not now" said the half blind half wit " but I'll give you a ring, with pleasure, later."

The plastic police patrol were eventually called by a rather sour faced, fat bitch wearing jackboots and a small moustache, who was driving a panzer tank. "Get  this useless twat out of my way or I'll have you killed" she said "That's how much power I have. I'm very important. I have two properties paid for by anybody who is left working, you know."

The phoney cops followed the trail of piss up the road until they eventually caught up with the pathetic twat who had skidded on a pile of his own snot.

"It's not my fault!" protested the confused cunt, shaking with rage. "Somebody must have changed the road signs and made me go in the wrong direction, it's not my fault I tell you, it must have been somebody else!"

"It's not my fault!"

No, it never is your fault is it.
You one eyed, pant wetting twat!

It's Trough at the Top (No.1)

Friday, 27 February 2009

Johann Pachelbel's Canon in D Major

Played like you've never fucking heard it before!

Spotted this over at The Screech's place and was absolutely blown away by it. I don't know who this kid, with a baseball cap peak for a face, is but he's a fucking talented little shit if ever I saw one.


Thursday, 26 February 2009

n e 1 fan c a shwr

How Sweet Of Lord Levy To Think Of Us Like That

Wednesday, 25 February 2009

This'll Wipe The Smile Off Her Face

Tuesday, 24 February 2009

BBC News Impartial - Fat Chance

Another day of hard graft saw me 'flat out like a lizard drinking', paying attention to detail, taking pride in my work, customer is king (or queen) etc, ethics which are standard issue to all of us normal 'work-fucking-hard'-for-a-living-and-you-shall-be-rewarded' types.

Anyway, whilst I was doing this, my customer happened to switch on the TV for the BBC news.

I was absolutely fucking well astonished!

The 'top story' was all about fat fucking chavs getting diabetes because they were all so lardy arseingly fat! Sitting around on their doughnut infested bulging buttocks is apparently the main cause for 'catching' type 2 diabetes. 41,000 of the fat fucks in the last few years.

Makes fucking sense to me but who gives a fuck? Eat + no excersise = fat fucker. Why is it headline news? And why did they spend at least ten minutes discussing it? Well, when I say discussing I mean interviewing five a day green grocers, doctors who hadn't eaten for 10 years and humungous whale looking wankers with half a cow and a sack of king edwards in their fat chav gobs whilst drinking 'atlantic' sized Pepsis sucked through a hosepipe.

Anyway, I'll tell you why, and this was the reason my astonishment was absolutely fucking. Further down the list of news items was the story about Jack Straw refusing to release the Cabinet minutes relating to the start of the Iraq war!

Yes that's right. The British Broadcasting Cunteration were literally burying an item of 'actual importance' under a pile of jelly on a plate, gut bucketing, lardy cake snaffling lardy arses that feed their fat fucking faces with lard fucking sandwiches all day whilst claiming benefits instead of working for a living.

That's why I was fucking astonished.

I just can't tell you which, out of the three useless wankers, I was most cross about.

  1. The BBCunteration for trying to distract me from/fucking bury the 'real news'
  2. The junk food jerk offs who get diabetes just because they are all lazy cunts
  3. Jack 'zip it' Straw for vetoing the release of the Iraq war Cabinet minutes which immediately leads you to think, 'what the fuck are you hiding you untrustworthy bunch of Nulabore nonces?
My conclusion?

Another classic case of the British Broadcasting Cunteration helping Gordoom Brownfinger, and his band of useless tossers, to bury news that they'd rather we didn't know about.

Oh and fat, benefit blagging chavs are all cunts.

That'll be all three then.



The deal has been struck.
The All Seeing Eye and St Crispin have been invited to vent their spleen and spew their bile here, at Sweary Towers, when life gets just a bit too much for them and only good old anglo fucking saxon buggery bollocks will do!

And, just to prove that I can manage a twatting sentence without fucking well swearing, I shall kindly accept their invite to do the occasional non fuckety fuck sweary bollocks of a post over at their place.

Sometimes swearing just isn't appropriate.
For example, G.O.T. was going to throw the odd fuck into this welcome but it just didn't seem to get the right message across, in fact it appeared to do exactly the opposite.


See what I mean?

So, in that case, I would just like to say 'Hello' and 'Welcome' to you both.


Sunday, 22 February 2009

The Best of Jacqui?

Mandy Gets the Decorators In

Lord Meddlesome has wasted even more of our taxpayers money by deciding to have his office redecorated AGAIN. Makeover Mandy, not content with the £20,000 already daubed on his walls prior to taking office, has spunked out another 57,000 of our precious pounds to have his Whitehall wank palace re-tarted.

Fuck me! (no not you Mandy)
The fucking nerve of the extravagant twat is beyond belief.
Frittering away our money on his turd polishers paradise whilst telling the jobless to fuck off to Europe and get work.

Incidentally, taxpayers have now forked out over £390,000 in the last year so that the man munching Meddlesome and his junior ministers can relax in luxury at the Department for Business Enterprise and Regulatory Reform.

'Changing Rooms', my fucking arse!

Saturday, 21 February 2009

The Condemned Man Ate A Hearty Meal

Here's a couple that I thought Fido might enjoy . . . 

Friday, 20 February 2009

Perceived Social Isolation

Thanks for this posting goes to

G.O.T., try staying calm and rational after reading this article which points the finger at the latest group of NHS Resources ABUSERS:

Loneliness as harmful as smoking and obesity

In outline this states that single people get ill because they lack companionship, they get as ill as smokers and the obese. Because they are single they lack self-control and are therefore more likely to 'comfort eat', give up on exercise regimes, have a second or even third 'comfort scotch' to combat feelings of loneliness and depression.

The reason they are single is because they lack social skills (which might be interpreted as being anti-social).

Statisics show that the largest number of households by size = 1
They are easily identifiable because they will have signed up for single discount Council Tax ( ie data-base already in place, cunning huh !)
Single people. The New Jews.

G.O.T. says:
Calm? Rational?
Not a fucking hope in hell.

Perceived Social Isolation!
Where the fuck did that come from?
Its called LONELINESS you scientific twats!
Why do you have to think up stupid names for things that means we have to ask what they mean which means you might as well have used the original meaning in the first place.

AND, more importantly, how many more ways are they going to find to preclude people from receiving care via the NHS. And anyway what the fuck is wrong with being single. It's not a twatting disease, you can't fucking catch it! Some people would fucking well prefer to be on their own.

AND, as EBC points out, this is yet another way for the Government to segregate innocent members of the population by stealth.

Finally, if loneliness is such a bad thing I hope Gordoom Brownfinger finds it soon by fucking the fuck off and leaving us all alone. Come to think of it he's already a fat fucker so maybe he's already half way there.

One can only wish.

Wednesday, 18 February 2009

How's My Driving

For many years now, to relieve the boredom of driving and of course to have some fun, I've been playing something called 'The Game'.

The idea is to piss off as many drivers as you can, in the queue behind you, whilst collecting as many points as you can. Sometimes it can be fucking hilarious especially when the innocent 'players' start leaning on their horns, gesticulating and going ballistic.

Fuck me, if they knew I was actually doing it deliberately they'd be catatonic.
Like I give a fuck!

This is how to play 'The Game':

1. Take a pivotal position and avoid being trumped.
2. Collect at least four cars in your wake.
3. Collect the following bonus points depending on which type of vehicle you are driving at the time. You can also collect bonus points for the type of vehicle that is five places behind:
Tractor/Farm Vehicle  10pts
Royal Mail Van  9pts
HGV  8pts
Milk Float  7pts
Van  6pts
Coach  5pts
Taxi  4pts
4x4  3pts
OAP Vehicle  2pts
Car  1pt

Further bonus points can be collected for the following:

• Going particularly slowly (good way to start The Game)  4pts
• Stopping for no reason with five or more cars in tow   10pts
• Every 30 seconds of being stopped without a car passing  3pts
• Stopping for a chat, with a car coming the other way  2pts
• Each hooter sounded behind you  1pt
• Indicate to pull over, slow down, then move off quickly whilst still indicating 4pts

4. In town centres pull over suddenly without indicating and park opposite another vehicle, thus stopping any other vehicle from getting through  4pts
5. Indicate to turn at a roundabout, then carry straight on  2pts
6. At a T junction or roundabout, for correctly guessing the intended direction of the vehicle behind and laboriously turning the same way  3pts
7. Parking in vehicle behind's intended parking spot  5pts
8. Leave one or both indicators on at all times  2pts
9. Trump another player (pull into pivotal position) 15pts
10. When pulling into trumping position, slow right down and then speed up suddenly (this is also an excellent way of counting the vehicles behind you)  5pts
11. Generally speed up and slow down continually  3pts
12. Swerve from side to side  2pts
13. Flash your headlights at someone to go through a gap and then go yourself  4pts
14. The game is over when a) you have been trumped or b) you have reached your destination.

Have a go.
It's a right fucking laugh and if you have a passenger, so much the better, they can keep score giving you more time to rev some fucks into the poor blood vessel bursting bastards behind you!

Tuesday, 17 February 2009

Waitrose Dot Con?

The very essence of middle England.

I was surprised to learn that Ocado, the delivery company used by Waitrose, have recently accepted a £10m investment from the Bank of London and the Middle East (BLME).

BLME advertises itself as being 'sharia'a compliant'.

It all seems a little strange doesn't it?
Does this mean that Waitrose, the bastion of fine wines and high quality meat for the higher middle classes, are going to have to put a halt to the delivery of 'pigs and booze' in order to receive the investment?

Apparently not, according to a spokesman from Ocado.

Ok then, so how can an Islamic bank justify such an investment arrangement? I would have thought that if BLME were truly Islamic then it should be avoiding anything which is deemed forbidden.

Pork and alcohol, for instance.

Why pretend to be different to any other bank otherwise?

Hypocritical twats!

Incidentally, the John Lewis Partnership pension fund owns 25% of Ocado.
New kitchen anyone?
Sorry, no wine racks.

Monday, 16 February 2009

It's 1983 & All Is Well . . .

Fuck me!
The G.O.N.T is back.

Heard this on the radio today during my travels and whilst trying to rack up loads of points playing 'The Game'. The memories came flooding back (again) and even the blood pressure dropped a bit. Oh, and I managed to score a hefty 29 points, not bad for a Monday.

Fucking result.

And does anyone remember the launch of the very first one of these?

Cowboy Builders Banned

A story based on The Three Little Pigs has been rejected by a Government backed awards event because the judges have decided it might offend Muslims . . . . .

. . . . . and builders!

What? Fuck off!

We mustn't upset Cowboy fucking builders.
We might offend them.

What? (again) Fuck off! (again)

You must be having a fucking giraffe.
They are one of the 'scum groups' of the earth for fucks sake! Along with those other  lowlifes, The Chavs and The Pikeys.

He certainly won't be tawtting well amused at having to take the poor sensitive feelings of those money swindling, home wrecking, couldn't give a shit, Cowboy Builders into consideration!

Also, the same book has been criticised by judges of the event because "the use of pigs raises cultural issues".

How many more times are these 'minority mong' muslim defenders going to keep fucking telling us all what to do every five minutes. And what not to do too, for that matter.

Sick of it.
Sick and fucking tired of it.
Sick and fucking tired of minority groups trying to run our lives. Muslim this, Islam that, racist the other.

Oh, and while we are on the subject, that pussydick, Dolly Draper has jumped on the 'fuck off you racists' band-wanker-wagon by all accounts.

Dolly Draper.
A prime example of a complete, catergory A, class one twat who is way beyond the meaning of the word cuntishness*

Sunday, 15 February 2009

Halal Hath No Fury Like A Pizza Scorned

I was absolutely fucking incensed by this post from Tory Poppins about the range of 'slit an animals throat' pizzas, that have been foisted upon us by those minority loving mongs at Dominoes Pizzas.

According to the President of the Halal Food Authority, "It's good news for Muslims . . . "
So what about the rest of us meat eating fuckers who are still in the majority?

I'm not a particularly big fan of pizzas. I just like to have one every so often but that's not the point. Freedom of choice is what it should be all about.

Read it and weep.

That is all.

Fabulous News for Joe Townsend

Please watch this video clip.

I know, I know.
Noel Edmonds is normally right at the top of my 'twat list' too but this clip is one of the most heart warming things that I have seen in many a year.

I was originally made aware of the plight of Joe Townsend via this post by the All Seeing Eye.

I too was so incensed that I was amongst the many people who took the time to contact Wealden District Council to demonstrate my disgust at the way they were treating this 20 year old Marine, who had lost both his legs during a stint in Afghanistan.

It now appears that so many people were outraged at this ridiculous situation that the Council have now had to rethink their approach.

And rightly so.

I don't mind telling you that, after watching such a marvelous outcome, there was distinct evidence of wetness around the G.O.T.'s eyes.

Rare tears of joy after witnessing such a magnificent display of human kindness.

It just goes to show that this Country hasn't completely 'gone to the dogs' yet.

Saturday, 14 February 2009

The New iRant Keyboard

Wednesday, 11 February 2009

Not Plastic Fantastic

Will somebody kindly explain to me what the fuck relevance that bollocksy Barclaycard advert has to do with fucking well using or having a Barclaycard.

Some curly haired, speccy four eyed, geeky twat wearing a pair of two sizes too small, 70's style swimming trunks - going down a wanking great water slide.

What has a credit card got to do with the aforementioned twat pulling his ill fitting trunks from out the crack of his arse and casually waving at his work mates (who, I might say, would probably report him to HR for perving about the place if this was in the real world).

The whole thing just gets even more head fuckingly ludicrous when Mr micro trunks leans over the side of the water slide and picks up a bastard banana. Then, fuck me jacob, he pays for it with his twatting credit card. Where the fuck did he whip that out from? His arse crack?

A bastard banana!
Where the buggery bollocks is he going to put that then? The mind absolutely boggles but it can't be up his arse because I assume the Barclaycard is already nestling against his sphincter and any additional items that were inserted would surely cause a certain amount of 'jostling' resulting in irreparable damage to the ring-piece region. 

Judging from the disdainful 'good grief he looks like he might be pleased to see me' look on the librarian's face, my bet is that the the curly headed cretin has shoved the bastard banana down the front of his shrink in the wash speedos.

Then, why the fuck does he need to pay for the sodding Subway? I didn't see the goggle eyed twat get on a twatting train at any twatting time, did you?

And if all of that shit wasn't a enough to make my poor tiny brain spin faster than Alastair Campbell after a Brownfinger fuck up, the shitting soundtrack is just that. Shit!

Don't get me wrong I like the nostalgic 70s & 80s thing, as you know, but 'Let Your Love Flow' by The Bellamy Brothers! What a load of fucking old bollocks! So what the fuck is that mini trunked twat up to on that water slide then? Fucking hell, don't tell me he's 'knocking one out' for his deposit account. Why doesn't the dirty 'credit card in the arse' pervert just be content with pissing in the pool, like any normal person?

Bollocks. It's all total bollocks.

Furthermore, how the fuck does the the tiny trunky twat get back to work again in the morning and what's he going to wear? He left his work clothes in the office. Does he go in the trunks or does he put another suit on? If he puts another suit on, where the buggery bollocks does Mr taut trunks store all the clothes that he keeps leaving at work?

Fucked if I know.
Too many questions. Head is fucked.

Leave it with you.

I'm off to eat a muffin.

Will You Ever Get The Message, You Twat

False, a sham, intentionally untrue, intending to mislead, deceiving, not faithful or loyal, lacking sincerity, inaccurate, artificial, based on mistaken ideas, inconsistent with the facts, threateningly deceptive, intending to defraud, arousing suspicion, dishonest, having no basis in fact, not essential, not genuine, not the real thing . . . . .

. . . .  and un-fucking-elected!

Tuesday, 10 February 2009

Tractor Stats - Anybody Know Why He's Gone?

Oh dear, Tractor Stats seems to have disappeared from the Blogosphere.

I really hope that it is not something sinister and everything is OK with him.

Does anyone have any info?

Really hope to see him back soon, don't you?

Fingers crossed.

Monday, 9 February 2009

Here's Your Five Portions For Today

My thanks to Either Banned or Compulsory, for the suggestions he made in the 'comments' of an  earlier post.

Sunday, 8 February 2009

We're Not All Fucking Chavs

The Grumpy Old Twat has been shocked to the core, yet again, by some marketing mong or other who has decided to 'fix' something that just isn't fucking broken.

Most of you will all ready know that I don't like change for change's sake and it certainly fucks me off big time when some spotty faced twat, fresh out of marketing school, decides to fuck around with perfectly adequate existing foodstuffs that have been happily available in the same traditional way for donkeys years.

Well, Walkers 'jug eared smug twat lineker' Crisps have decided we now need some new flavours with which to tickle our taste buds. Oh no, Ready Salted, Cheese & Onion, Salt & Vinegar and Smokey Bacon just aren't fucking good enough for us anymore.

Ok, ok, so I admit to the odd packet of Tomato Ketchup flavour but it appears that those who know best at Wankers Crisps have decided that we have now all become lardy arsed, gut bucketing, 50" plasma watching, fat fucking freeloading, tasteless Chavs and we now need these 6 new flavours to suit our benefit fueled lay-about lifestyle.
  1. Onion Bahji
  2. Fish & Chips
  3. Cajun Squirrel
  4. Builder's Breakfast
  5. Chilli & Chocolate
  6. Crispy Duck & Hoisin

I fucking shit you not!

Whaaaat the buggery, fucking, bollocks of a planet were these 'fuck up our food' fuckers on when they thought of this pile of shit? And what kind of sad fuck sits down in his laboratory, whips out his tasteless taste buds, and decides what fucking squirrel should taste like?

Just fuck the fuck off, get a new life and leave our crispy comestibles alone!

It's enough to drive me to drink.

Oh, ok then, just a bottle of Islay single malt with the top off and a straw inserted . . . .  oh, and perhaps a few Twiglets would be nice. No 'funny fuck' flavours though.


Saturday, 7 February 2009

Sharon Shoesmith - A Woman?

Sharon Shoesmith, the heartless Haringey Council headbitch ultimately responsible for allowing Tracey Connelly, Jason Barker and Stephen Barker to murder a poor defenseless baby, Peter Connelly, has finally decided to bestow her thoughts upon us.

Wow, that's fucking big of her!
Nearly 18 fucking months after the event.

An interview on Radio 4's Weekend Woman's Hour.
Fucking ironic, I thought, I didn't have her down as 'a woman'. A person of the normally gentler sex, caring, responsible, natural instinct for the welfare of a child etc., etc.

And unsurprisingly no, she hasn't had a change of heart either. Just the usual, predictable spouting of well established 'I'm not to blame' phrases that have become all too common from overpaid twats who fuck up whilst in positions of authority.

And that is my point.

If you took out the words baby, child, children, neglect etc from her pathetic justifications, what the buggery bollocks were we fucking listening to!

The way she was blathering on, the standard phrases she was regurgitating and the general well prepared, 'spin doctored' bollocks she was uttering could have led you to believe that she was defending any kind of establishment fuck up that you would care to think of.

We are talking about the 'murder' of an innocent young child here, you insensitive fucking bitch! Not some lost data stick,  British jobs for British workers or lack of fucking rock salt to put on the roads.

Has she not learnt her fucking lesson yet?
Sadly, very sadly, she blatantly has not.
Nor, according to the evidence so far, I doubt if she ever will.

All we can do now is keep our ear to the ground.
That fucking bitch is bound to incidiously work her way in to yet another overpaid establishment position in the not too distant future and this will, no doubt, be surreptitiously provided by our equally incompetent government.

We must not let this happen.
May Sharon Shoesmith never find peace, ever.

God bless Peter Connelly.

Rantiest Rant of the Day

Just read this Jeremy Clarkson piece posted by The Screech.
I suggest you do the same, it's good and it contains the 'Rantiest Rant of The Day'!

Incidentally, as you probably already know, I'm not the biggest fan of Jeremy Twatson and his Twat Gear ensemble.

Used to love it. Not anymore.
It's turned into yet another waste of our Licence fee.

As much as it hurts me to admit it though, I damn well fucking admired The Twatson for having a go at Gordoom, the one-eyed fat fuck. Credit where credit is due, I say.

Anyhow, back to the real point in hand. I love a fucking good rant and I equally enjoy reading other fucking good rants too. So here, in my humble opinion, is 'The Rantiest Rant of the Day' courtesy of The Screech:

Jesus H Christ! What is it lately with all these uncalled for defenders, coming to the defence of someone they think needs defending without even asking those who they think need defending if they actually want defending? Just fuck off!!! Oh and before you go, pass me the scotch on ice and don't let the door hit you in the back of the head on the way out.

Fucking nice one!
That's the fucking way to have a damn good rant.
Let the fuckers have it with both barrels.


Shoesmith on Radio 4 @ 4pm Today

'Womans Hour' is not one of my usual ports of call but this edition should be worth a listen.
I wonder what Sharon Shoesmith's agenda is going to be?
Seems a bit too fucking late to be issuing apologies for the death of Peter Connelly!
I dare say it'll be more a case of her naming who she thinks is responsible rather than carrying the burden of guilt herself. A technique she'll have learnt from Gordoom Brownfinger, no doubt.

I have heard that she has considered suicide.

Well, Shoesmith, don't hold back on our account.


Friday, 6 February 2009

It's Snow Fucking Joke

Oi, Highways desk jockey jerk offs!
Pin your fucking ears back.

We don't all live within 6 fucking feet of a motorway or drive a big fuck off 4 x fucking 4. When the fuck are you twats going to get your act together and clear the sodding snow off the roads so that I can get back to work and earn some fucking money!

We're not all work shy twatting teachers you know. Some of us REALLY do want to work.


Even More Jacka-fucking-nory Head Fucks

As promised, here's a few more examples of classic childrens material revisited. I'd like to see the British Broadcasting Cunteration reviewing this collection of non-PC shit on The One Show!

Yes, that's right, fuck off you golliwog hating bunch of over fucking sensitive, Nanny state PC twats!

That is all!

Or is it?

Thursday, 5 February 2009

More Head Fucks for Golliwog Haters

A few more rediscovered gems in my kids' reading library. Apologies to Roger Hargreaves, of course, but none whatsoever to all those narrow minded Righteous bastards who are in dire need of a damn good rogering, to sort out their fucked up little brains.

Here, have one on me you wankers.
A head fuck that is!

I'd like to see Mr Licence Fee Waster at the British Broadcasting Cunteration give these an airing on Listen With Mother Fucking Mother!

Still plenty more where this came from, you golliwog hating bunch of over sensitive, Nanny state PC twats!

That is still NOT all!

Many thanks to Fido for mentioning this Ladybird book post of his, in the comments.  It's fucking hilarious and definitely Nanny haemorrage material!

Enid Blyton Gives PC Twats a Head Fuck

Fucking snow everywhere. Great, love it!
So, seeing as I can't go to work today (customer lives up in the hills 12 miles away so can't even walk there) I thought I'd hit the Nostalgia trail again and rediscover some of my kids' classic old story books.

These should get those Righteous PC twats tiny little brains haemorraging like fuck, with any luck!

Oh, and here's a nice little quote from Enid's 'Three Little Golliwogs' which, incidentally, is still available to buy here. 
"Once the three bold Golliwogs, Golly, Woggie and Nigger, decided to go for a walk to Bumble-Bee Common. Golly wasn't quite ready so Woggie and Nigger said they would start off without him, and Golly would catch them up as soon as he could. So off went Woggie and Nigger, arm-in-arm, singing merrily their favourite song - which, as you may guess, was Ten Little Nigger Boys."
I doubt whether those pricks at the British Broadcasting Cunteration will be reading this out on Jacka-fucking-nory though!

Plenty more where this came from, you golliwog hating bunch of over fucking sensitive, Nanny state PC twats!

That is NOT all!

Tuesday, 3 February 2009

Now It's Cricket That's Been Hit For Six

The barking mad Muslims, are at it again and have rudely interrupted my Nostalgic Nirvana.

Therefore, today I am a FAGOT and not a GONT.

That over sensitive minority of fucking cretins have found something else in their handbook of "How To Fuck Britain Up The Arse", to enable them to pour even more fuel on the 'political correctness has gone fucking mad' bonfire.

And this time it's cricket.

It's just not cricket!!

The winners of last years Twenty20 Cup, the Middlesex Crusaders, have been forced to change their name after "one or two" angry complaints from Muslim communities.

Apparently this tiny minority are concerned that the name 'Crusader' is a direct reference to the medieval Christian crusades which saw military wars waged against other faiths.

It's just a name of a world renowned cricket team, you twats, they just play cricket. They have been called the Crusaders for over ten years. It's just an innocent nickname, nothing more nothing less. What's your fucking problem?

It's getting beyond a joke when these 'touchy twats' want to start fucking around with the names of our cricket teams.

Well I, for one, will not be calling Middlesex Crusaders by their new name of Panthers.

Piss, shit, fuck, wank, bollocks to all you dirty bearded, trouble making, bunch of fuckwits.

Leave my/our beloved game alone and go and wash your dirty fucking face fungus in the nearest acid bath.


Monday, 2 February 2009

At Least I Admit To Wetting Myself Gordon

My thanks go to It's Either Banned or Compulsory for this alternative version of the Smash advert. Nice one!

I'd never seen this clip before and laughed like a fucking laughing fucker, who couldn't stop fucking laughing, when I watched it. Which was good because I had a shit day today and it was just the tonic I needed. In fact I pissed myself laughing!

Fucking brilliant, they were. Proper fucking alternative comedy from the 70's, years before all those other fuckers gave it a try.

God bless them both.

We Are Clearly Most Primitive

The Smash adverts are still absolute fucking classics and can still make me laugh like a fucking ninny, even today!

Don't know about anyone else but I just can't bear to watch I.T.fucking V. anymore. Haven't watched it for years. The fucking adverts drive me mad. They're all crap and there's just far too many of them.

Back 'in the day' though they were brilliant. They were often clever, entertaining and most of all they could be 'pant wettingly' funny. Literally sometimes.

Ok, so there where some dreadful ones too like 'Shake 'n' Vac' but we can still all recall it though can't we? I can remember my mother using the stuff.  Wiggling and jiggling around the house like some demented fucker with rickets. She even had the same fucking Hoover as the stupid bint in the advert, probably still got it now. Tightarse!

Anyhow the 'stuff' looked like fucking talc powder if you ask me. In fact, one time, I caught my baby brother trying to shove some between the cheeks of his arse in an attempt to soothe some 'plastic pant rash' or other.

Didn't work of course. He just bawled his fucking head off until 'mummy' gave him a pink wafer.
Had to laugh though, next time he farted a little puffy white cloud appeared from under his corduroy shorts and sprinkled onto his brown Startrite sandals!

"Great cars and a great deal more"

British Leyland cars, wow, they were the dogs bollocks in those days. I adored the Dolomite Sprint and always aspired to having one. Alas, I never managed it but a friend of mine did have one when we were about 18, cream with a black vinyl roof it was. Jammy bastard! What a fanny magnet that thing was come Friday night. A right pair of 'Jack the lads' we were. Always on the look out for a couple of 'Jill the girls'!

And what about Kia-Ora.
Another classic advert of the time but fuck me though, a stereotypical black kid singing?
Christ, Nanny would probably have a stroke if that aired today, coupled with violent anti racist protests too, I shouldn't wonder.

"I'll be your dog."

Good times!

Sunday, 1 February 2009

We're All Crazy Now

"I don't want to drink my whiskey but still do . . . 
. . .  but we're all crazy now!"

Sorry about Tony Blackburn's appearance at the beginning of the clip. Never did like that smarmy, fucking twat. And Tessa Wyatt, what the fuck was that all about?

Slade had huge album and single chart success between 1971 and 1975. Their biggest hit 'Merry Christmas Everybody' reached No1 at Christmas in 1973. It was preceded by Little Jimmy Osmond (hateful little shit) with 'Long Haired Lover from Liverpool' (even fucking shittier) and succeeded by Mud with 'Lonely This Christmas', which was then succeeded by the seminal Bohemian Rhapsody.

Good times!

Nice one Noddy and by the way, we are STILL all fucking crazy now.

I'm off to 'the flicks' shortly to see Where Eagles Dare (really looking forward to the cable car fight) and I'll be treating Pigsy to a Kia-Ora, a packet of Opal Fruits and some Bourneville chocolate, flash bastard, but I fucking doubt whether you can get these delectable items anymore.

If I should happen to get to 'first base', before the interval, I'm really going to push the boat out and present her with a Walls vanilla ice cream block placed between two wafers. I'll probably just have a 'tub' and eat it with a small wooden spoon.

The interval.
Do you remember when they used to have those?
Queuing for the lady with the ice cream tray hanging around her neck and taking the opportunity to see who else was sitting in the back row. Oh, and what about those good old Pearl & Dean adverts and there was always a short supporting film before you watched the 'big flick'. What the fuck has happened to all of that then? 

"Broad Sword calling Danny Boy . . . ."

Happy Days.
Sigh. . . . 

Pour Yourself a Scotch and Tell Your Bird To Shut It

The fucking Sweeney are back on the streets!
Oh how I wish that WERE true.

The music, the motors, the political incorrectness. I never missed an episode, it was always the highlight of my week and something to really look forward to in the next.

Occasionally you can still find repeats of this classic series being pumped out on one of those 'tucked away' digital channels.

Oh what joy!

"Look slag I don't give a toss who you have in your bed . . . "

Fucking bring it on!

The Sweeney ran for 4 years in the 70's.
53 episodes were made in total and these went on to be shown in 51 countries and it is still regarded, by many, as the most successful police series ever made for British TV.

"We're The Sweeney and we haven't had any dinner, you're nicked!"