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Last Cunt Standing

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About Last Cunt Standing

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    Epic Cunt

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  1. Oh I imagine he’s quite aware. In fact he’ll be serving the drinks in his pinny while Jerome and the Cripps run a train on Meghan. A cuck if ever there was one our Harry, his little ginger cock was retired as soon as that Black preacher sat back down on the Windsor pew. I bet there’s not a day goes by he doesn’t wish he was still getting sucked off by Chelsey Davy.
  2. Well in a sign of our increasingly desperate times, Old Liz has been rolled out from her Fuhrer Bunker under the Chancellry Gardens, also known as St George’s Chapel, to fix us all with a steely TV glare to get us through the peak of the death curve. In a pre-recorded statement, Brenda will speak to the Commonwealth and likely trot out the same out hackneyed bollocks while, in keeping with the mood of the nation, she sits on the sofa in her pyjamas idly picking her feet. Early contenders for bullshit bingo: 1. National Crisis 2. The War 3. My family and I 4. The NHS 5. Spirit/resolve/determination 6. Grief And loss 7. Brighter days to come Then follows a rousing chorus of Rule Britannia, mass forelock tugging, and off to bed trying hard to remember it’s not Christmas Day and you don’t need to polish off the sprouts like you do every year after The Queen. I hope Charles does a Pidgin Version, we may as well die laughing.
  3. I hope this lot never did a Calendar Girls style shoot. There’s surely not enough cake in England to hide their arid genitals behind. In other news, they have a cracking array of cheap open-toed sandals on display, plus the old slapper doing the selfie in the lower right corner looks to have nailed it, and that’s not easy with a Box Brownie.
  4. Sarah Millican is dead? Was it cancer of the nunny?
  5. Did it deserve a BBC News Alert in the current climate though? 9000 miles from London I heard the bongs from my phone, thought “oh fuck, what now?”, then laughed out loud for a good 20 seconds. To be fair, it’s the only laugh Eddie Large has ever given me.
  6. Your aggression is uncalled for, Stubby. Though I fear it is already too late, I’m as up for defending the natural world as the next man, I just think it odd that so many people who will happily chain themselves round an oak tree would cross the road to avoid a Big Issue seller. Perhaps it’s simple misanthropy, with which I have great sympathy, given after a life of 10 minute moans I now prefer my dog to most people. Speaking of which it’s walkies time, and I’ll look out for taipans. Thanks.
  7. I hate to come over all Das Kapital, but would it not be wiser to turn your GPMG on the lords and ladies? The lackeys are replaceable and turning them into manure isn’t solving the problem, is it? But take out the organ grinder and the monkey can go back to his tree.
  8. That’s probably fair enough, not my area of interest. I’m sure many sab crews contain plenty of piss poor students and long haired anarchists, in fact that’s probably half the attraction for the middle aged Tory wives with desiccated gussets who secretly fancy a quickie in the back of the Landy with Spider from Coronation Street. I have never understood the energy some people put into defending the Fox, or a patch of woodland off the A3, but when it comes to suffering in their fellow man these same people often look the other way. It’s a weird kind of projection to me, that the single mother can be left to rot but a farmer shoots a badger and we need a Royal Commission. As we are seeing now as things unravel, people have some odd priorities.
  9. A typically parsed and caveated Your Worship, which leads me to conclude you’d be quite happy to don the jodhpurs and hunt if you were invited. Personally I think the League Against Cruel Sports should have spoken to the ‘RA about the time Tony felt that hand of history on his shoulder. An Armalite from the shrubbery taking out the braying Establishment would have been applauded all over the country. My point stands though; provincial WI’s are full of Tory Women who haven’t had a decent fuck since Goose Green fell to the Marines. These types will shed endless tears for the stray cat or the injured donkey, but step over the homeless in the street or sneer at the dole office. Priorities are all wrong. Maybe the next tramp you see needs to have grown a tail and be walking on all 4 if you are to feel anything for them.
  10. This is not a comestible, Killer, it’s rather what Popeye whispers to his girlfriend after a night on the Rum and Spinach cocktails. He’s strong to the finish, apparently.
  11. One Nation. As in One People, One Nation, One Leader? Catchy. Seriously, ickle wickle foxes get chased by your political bedfellows and you’re manning the barricades, but the poor just need to try a bit harder if they want a few more crumbs from your table? What a strange and contradictory creature you are.
  12. No worries, I make a similar mistake with you and David Tremble.
  13. A neighbour of mine smoked 30 a day till his 103rd birthday, then stopped and died the next day! I thought it gave you cancer! What the fuck is going on! You halfwit.
  14. Now now Billy, easy on the Kool-Aid, or you’ll be needing a tinfoil sash to go with the Bacofoil bowler on your Portadown Nature ramble later this year.
  15. I must admit to some surprise at your stance on this subject Your Worship. I’d have had you pegged for all money as a Toby Young-esque ultra capitalist who thinks we should be chucking the elderly off Beachy Head so the great Casino in the Square Mile can crank up and start producing arseholes again. I was expecting a blizzard of stats and graphs on the potential loss to GDP and why the QALYs don’t justify it, but no. Aside from a sly dig at Globalism you seem to be slight to the left of Genghis Khan for once. Bravo.
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