How the hell is this retarded cunt allowed on the telly? Which dickhead Sky TV exec thought that a career on the physio table during which he managed to achieve the sum total of absolutely fuck all made him perfect to be inflicting his ill-informed, terribly-worded opinions on the nation's football fans? WHAT A CUNT.
It's bad enough that he interrupts people who know far fuckng more than him ALL THE TIME. It's bad enough that he seems to be on every single match that Sky show. But what's much worse is the fact that he is about as literate and educated as a carrier bag full of festering cow shit.
He also insists on using the word 'literally' all the time. When he clearly doesn't mean 'literally'. One great recent example of this was in the charity shield: 'He's literally left his man for dead there'. NO HE HASN'T YOU STUPID FUCKING COCKFART OF A MAN.
however, this weekend he slightly ruined the pleasure I took in my beloved sunderland scoring a last-minute winner against Spurs by saying 'Time literally stood still for Chopra there.'
Go back to fucking your stupid vacuous wife and leave football alone, you silly little cunt. Or I will literally kill you.
Monday 13 August 2007
Friday 10 August 2007
People who ask 'what's your poison' in a pub when ordering a round
Just fuck the fuck off. You are NOT cool, you are NOT having a great time, you are stood in a wanky town centre pub with colleagues you clearly do not want to be with. Stop trying to sound crazy and like you go out all the time because the entire world can see that you just a massive cunt who never gets invited out with interesting people and instead says things like 'what's your poison?'. And I bet you drive a cunts car, have a small penis, no real friends, and work in sales.
Thursday 9 August 2007
Mobile Fucking World top-up phone line
You useless bag of festering cunt.
Trying to add £10 to your mobile phone top-up should not be this hard you time-wasting motherfuckers. YOU HAVE MY BANK DETAILS ON RECORD. I SWHOULD NOT HAVE TO RE-ENTER ALL OF THEM EVERY FRICKING TIME.
Press 1 to top-up by debit card
Press 1 if the number you want to top up is the one you are calling from
Enter the 16 digit card number
Press 1 if this is correct
Enter your 3 digit security code on the back of the card
Press 1 if this is correct
Enter your four digit expiry date
Press 1 if this is correct
How much do you wish to top up - 10, 20, 30, 40 or 50
Press 1 if this is correct
AND IF YOU PRESS THE WRONG BUTTON RIGHT AT THE CUNTING END OF PROCEEDINGS:
All of our operators are busy. Please call back during office hours.
WHAT'S WRONG WITH A 'press hash key to go back to the previous stage' YOU AWKWARD CUNTS?
I pressed the wrong button because I'm drunk and I can't now call for a taxi until I've wasted another ten minutes of my life listening to that prozac-pumped bint telling me to enter my fucking security code. And now I've wet myself. Thanks.
Trying to add £10 to your mobile phone top-up should not be this hard you time-wasting motherfuckers. YOU HAVE MY BANK DETAILS ON RECORD. I SWHOULD NOT HAVE TO RE-ENTER ALL OF THEM EVERY FRICKING TIME.
Press 1 to top-up by debit card
Press 1 if the number you want to top up is the one you are calling from
Enter the 16 digit card number
Press 1 if this is correct
Enter your 3 digit security code on the back of the card
Press 1 if this is correct
Enter your four digit expiry date
Press 1 if this is correct
How much do you wish to top up - 10, 20, 30, 40 or 50
Press 1 if this is correct
AND IF YOU PRESS THE WRONG BUTTON RIGHT AT THE CUNTING END OF PROCEEDINGS:
All of our operators are busy. Please call back during office hours.
WHAT'S WRONG WITH A 'press hash key to go back to the previous stage' YOU AWKWARD CUNTS?
I pressed the wrong button because I'm drunk and I can't now call for a taxi until I've wasted another ten minutes of my life listening to that prozac-pumped bint telling me to enter my fucking security code. And now I've wet myself. Thanks.
Wednesday 1 August 2007
Whichever hairdresser in Bournemouth keeps letting blokes have a mullet with blonde highlights
Who the fuck are you? And, more importantly, where the fuck are you, as I have a molotov cocktail with the name of your fucking shopfront on it.
What the bollocks is going on with the men of this shitty town? I was in Bliss last night (random night out, cheep beer) and went for a piss. In Bliss, the highly intelligent lay-out chaps have ensured you have to cross the dancefloor to make it to the bogs. This meant I came into close contact with a whole HEAP of chavvy cunts. At least, I think there was lots of them. It could have been one blokemoving around very quickly BECAUSE THEY ALL LOOKED THE SAME.
I couldn't give a fuck about what people do to their hair. I've never been a big one for bothering meself with my personal appearance, and others can do what they want - I'm not normally one to judge. But what kind of a sad world do we live in when everyone wants to look the fucking same? Especially when they all want to look like utter twats?
Last night in Bliss was wall-to-wall, inbred, bad-toothed, buck-ugly, spotty, mentally inept FUCKNUCKLES posturing and posing in front of women reeking of false tan. If you're going to have one of those haircuts that makes people look at you twice, then for god's sake you'd better not have a face that looks like your mother set you on fire and then beat it out with a shovel. No-one told these boys that.
Bunch of cunting retarded cunts that want to look like other retarded cunts. How are the women supposed to choose when you all look the same? Or do they fill in scorecards on the lustre and thickness of the mullet? My favourite new addition to the look is that weird sideparting type thing at the fringe, where it all sweeps over in one direction, making you look like EVEN MORE of a cunt. And it looks complicated to do, too - the only smell stronger than that of piss and Hai Karate on that dancefloor was the smell of hairspray.
So, cunty hairdressers of Bournemouth, next time someone asks for one of those haircuts, give them a nice sensible side parting, leave the hair dye where it is, and tell them to fuck the fuck off.
What the bollocks is going on with the men of this shitty town? I was in Bliss last night (random night out, cheep beer) and went for a piss. In Bliss, the highly intelligent lay-out chaps have ensured you have to cross the dancefloor to make it to the bogs. This meant I came into close contact with a whole HEAP of chavvy cunts. At least, I think there was lots of them. It could have been one blokemoving around very quickly BECAUSE THEY ALL LOOKED THE SAME.
I couldn't give a fuck about what people do to their hair. I've never been a big one for bothering meself with my personal appearance, and others can do what they want - I'm not normally one to judge. But what kind of a sad world do we live in when everyone wants to look the fucking same? Especially when they all want to look like utter twats?
Last night in Bliss was wall-to-wall, inbred, bad-toothed, buck-ugly, spotty, mentally inept FUCKNUCKLES posturing and posing in front of women reeking of false tan. If you're going to have one of those haircuts that makes people look at you twice, then for god's sake you'd better not have a face that looks like your mother set you on fire and then beat it out with a shovel. No-one told these boys that.
Bunch of cunting retarded cunts that want to look like other retarded cunts. How are the women supposed to choose when you all look the same? Or do they fill in scorecards on the lustre and thickness of the mullet? My favourite new addition to the look is that weird sideparting type thing at the fringe, where it all sweeps over in one direction, making you look like EVEN MORE of a cunt. And it looks complicated to do, too - the only smell stronger than that of piss and Hai Karate on that dancefloor was the smell of hairspray.
So, cunty hairdressers of Bournemouth, next time someone asks for one of those haircuts, give them a nice sensible side parting, leave the hair dye where it is, and tell them to fuck the fuck off.
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