Yellow Button
I keep getting pop-up boxes on my TV. They contain advice that the switchover will mean the loss of TV programmes/reception, unless I make appropriate arrangements ahead of the deadline. This cuntin' message is delivered to me via a new, flat, full fuckin HD digital pissing TV that's hooked up to a new aerial that's got more pissing prongs on it than a hedgehog and is pointing with the accuracy of a laser-guided missile at the fucking new transmitter of digital transmissions - and my set is tuned to DTV not TV. So, how the fuck, with all this in place, is some cunt sending me messages on screen to suggest I might need to sort myself out? To make the message go away, I need to 'Press the Yellow Button'. If I had my way, I'd make the bastard who devised this annoyance go away permanently, using of course the very latest laser guided technology!
QVC
I think the population of the UK has suffered at the hands of shit sales pitches on television. In particular, the QVC bollocks has entered the national psyche. I was queuing at the Cunt-op last week, and was getting frustrated, as usual. The people in front of me were purchasing more than me; I had a newspaper and had to wait for baskets to be emptied and items scanned. I was not amused when a fuck in front decided he'd like to acquire an "electronic lighter". Now, I immediately thought that this was a grandiose term for a 20p bit of plastic that clicks as a flame starts up and signals the start of the "thumb-burning ritual". I then had to watch as Donna patiently relayed details of the equipment to Mr Nick Quitin, who seemed amazed at how wonderful the gadget was. 'Electronic' annoyed me, but not as much as the time then devoted to the sales presentation. It was like a QVC fucking pitch, but without the p&p charge. Anyway, he finally got his hi-tec item and fucked off to burn his thumb. As my paper was scanned, I saw the lighters on display - 95p for a shit lighter. The Cunt-op is a rip-off. The Co-operative: Shit With Food, Worse With Everything Else
Water Companies
We are all told to conserve water, but as individuals and families, we waste small amounts compared with the cunts who run the water companies. Seeing a report regarding the wastage by the top seven, I was amazed at the numbers. There are around 63 million people in the UK, from kids to senior citizens. Let's just imagine for a moment that each person is expected to get up each morning, fill a jerry can up, and tip it away. That's right - nearly five gallons of water for each and every person in this country, every morning. That is what the five largest water companies are doing (on our behalf, so we don't have to do what I just said) every fucking day of every fucking week. Appalling, eh? So, before anyone from a water company lectures me about reboiling a kettle, of sharing bath water, they can fuck off and stop the horrendous wastage, totalling nearly 300 million gallons per day. Drought in the south? A disgraceful status considering the wastage!
Rowan Williams
The Archbishop of Cunterbury is moving on, back to academia it seems, after achieving nothing - in fact, his input was a negative, so well done, Bish! Let's hope the next one in the position is less of a nob.
The BBC
What a fucked up fat-arsed organisation this is. It has little idea of the value of anything, and loves to spend our money on what it sees fit. Why the fuck we need Gary Lineker to introduce the games and chit-chat with Hansen on Match of the Day is beyond me, considering he's paid £2million for doing so (plus travel expenses at £15,000) each year. Any twat can sit in a chair and prompt Hansen. I would much rather he was stunned with a cattle-prodder rather than nudged into action, to moan about a defender's performance on a match we've all just watched. Hansen gets a couple of million as well, and with thicko Shearer and Mark Lawrenson collecting nice wedges, the BBC is coughing up well over £5million a year when guest presenters from the world of football and sports journalism could do it for a fifth of that. What's fucking more annoying is that their raised profiles mean they can make a mint on top of this, via adverts for Walkers Crisps and Morrisons. In a desperate bid to make sure it collects enough dosh, the BBC sent out over the last four years 85 million warning letters to viewers - so-called 'Threatograms'. I know licence fee dodgers need to pay, or we all pay more so that the BBC can squander the money, but £13.5million on postage and a whole load more on paper and postroom input is preposterous. Bastard Bloody Cunts - BBC.
Council Cunts
West Sussex County Council has spent £100,000 on videos in the last five years. These 'masterpieces' have been put on YouTube to help people in various disciplines, and include instruction on how to wash your hands, how to make a phone call and other barmy shit. In case you're a useless cunt, here's a hint, taken from the video on washing hands. "Wet your hands before you apply the soap. Work up a lather and dry with a clean hand towel." Work up a lather? I'm fucking cursing like hell, thank you! I will not relay details on how to make a phone call, as it's so dire. The council boss, Louise Goldsmith, insisted that 100,000 people had watched the films and that "the clips are a good way of keeping residents informed". Bollocks, dearie - anyone viewing this shit on YouTube is doing so for a laugh, not to learn anything, and 'keeping residents informed' is quite simply a demonstration from you to me that you've lost the fucking plot.
Stress
No, I'm not talking about feeling oppressed or swamped, but the pronunciation of certain words. Take 'Finance'. It's fucking FI-nance, or perhaps better shown, F-EYE-nance. I'm am fed up with the fucking fin-ANCE shit. As bad, if not worse, is people's obsession with a twist on DEC-ade, to force upon those listening the absurd de-CADE because they are pompous twats. 'Decayed' is a perfectly useful word with a completely different meaning, and there's absolutely no point in forcing 'Decade' to adopt the same stress. By the way, while I'm on pronunciation, I have a further pet hate - not stress related, but stress-causing. Negotiate is Ne-GO-she-ate. Again, it's affected twats who introduced us some 25 years ago to the curious Ne-GO-see-ate. What fuckin' next? This, by the way is not nego-see-able. Yeah, sounds shit, eh? QED
John Terry
'Irritation' is far too weak a term to describe JT - he's more like a raging rash. To learn that his legal team argued in court that it would be unfair to allow lip-reading evidence because the case against him revolves around the work 'black' is amazing. John - calling Anton Ferdinand a 'fucking black cunt' is not very complimentary, and the fact that you used the word 'black' has something to do with why you are charged with racial abuse. Being caught on camera means your denials are pathetic, and the move by you and your team to block lip-reading evidence means that I have moved from being 99% convinced of your alleged outburst to 100% - or in football speak (again, as per an earlier note) 110%.
Spitting
I saw Carlton Cole come on to the field as a substitute for West Ham against Cardiff, in the 62nd minute. He jogged on to the pitch and after six steps, needed to gob. I'm not sure whether there was a follow-on gesture in the next 28 minutes involving holding closed one nostril and blowing out of the other, but I wouldn't be surprised. Football players are very often disgusting.
Weather Forecasts on TV
This time I will refrain from moaning about the horrendous use of the English language, the appalling revelations that confirm many of the forecasters know fuck all about meteorology, and the horrible delivery they commonly have for the nonsense spouted. No, all that can be regurgitated and analysed in detail at some future point. For now, I just wish the cunts would stop fucking winking at me at the end of their drivel!
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