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Gareth Hunt

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About Gareth Hunt

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    New Cunt
  1. Gareth Hunt

    Pseudo homeless beggars

    I fully appreciate the valuable service that these chaps provide to virtue-signalling lefties, who delight in ostentatious displays of their caring nature. We've all seen such bell-ends, squatting by some "unfortunate", oozing sympathy and offering hot coffee and snacks (but never money, because they've read the guidance from Shelter that tells them that the feckless sleeping bag tenant will put it to ill use). What seems to be a problem in my neck of the woods is a huge proliferation of pseudo homeless, producing market saturation. The virtue-signallers are over supplied with unfortunates to fawn over and so the baggies are now pestering heartless cunts like me. I can't walk 10 yards in the vicinity of my local rail station with being asked for various "spare" items that I might have about my person. Gareth .
  2. After numerous recent discussions down the pub, I have been dismayed to note how prevalent these types are, especially in boozers of the "micro pub/brewery" niche. It seems that some people will only be happy when there are no borders, no nations, no differentiated races; instead, the dream appears to be a world full of coffee-coloured people, roaming the planet at will, all bumming each other and stuff. C.U. Next Tuesday is what I say. Gareth.
  3. Gareth Hunt

    Whiney Brexiteer Cunts

    I fit the bill for this nom, but I eat Warburton's, not French shit bread. I think I will have difficulty shoving the loaf of Warbo's Toastie up my backside. Maybe a shoe horn would help. In a similar vein, I don't drive a crappy Frog or Kraut motor; the Allegro is the girl for me. Off the road at the moment, though. Hydro-spastic suspension playing up and the contact breakers need a good grind. Can you give me a lift to Beachy Head? Gareth.
  4. Gareth Hunt

    Chinese Medicines (again)

    Look, if anyone gave a shit, they could have miked the nuts of the last few males, harvested some eggs from the females and frozen them for the time when the world decides it needs some new Northern White Rhinos. It ain't rocket science and has probably been done, so we can all relax. Extinction ain't what it used to be, as some cunt once said, or sang, or something. Gareth.
  5. Gareth Hunt

    Chinese Medicines (again)

    In fairness, the Southern White Rhino is pretty similar to the Northern White Rhino and there are plenty of the former cunts about. I suspect that you're just racialist against the Chinks and their clever medicine. Gareth.
  6. Gareth Hunt

    Public Cunting

    "I performed a public service"- yes, in demonstrating your hopeless impotence and profound stupidly. While you were blowing off steam, I bet your face was red, your lower lip trembling and your utterances beyond comprehension (but plenty spittle flying about, like a proper spacca). The reason you weren't sacked is because no cunt could understand what you were saying and thought it was a seizure. So, back to work on Monday with your tail between your legs, you poisonous little pipsqueak.
  7. Gareth Hunt

    Public Cunting

    "I fantasised that I literally exploded on the cunt, in front of nearly 20people. His habit of back-biting and shitcuntery ended in that moment." There, fixed it for you. Now don't be too upset about the nasty people at work, sweetie. One day you might be promoted to head tea boy and really have some power. Suck it up, buttercup.
  8. What kind of honest toil do you do to earn your pennies, then? Are you the Warwickshire Wank Nurse, or something equally edifying?
  9. Gareth Hunt

    Elwis Pwezleys.

    Some Nips do a passable Elvis. I suspect the OP is bearing a grudge after his Datsun Cherry let him down once too often in the 1970s. That or a bitter memory of having selected used male underwear, instead of female, from one of those perv, pantie-sniffer vending machines the Japs are so keen on. GH.
  10. Gareth Hunt

    Cunts who "just pop round" to see you

    Easter weekend and lots of cunts around with time on their hands and apparently, rather empty lives. So much so, in fact, that they feel inclined to foist unexpected visits on people. The amazing thing about these cunts is their timing. I'll have just mixed the Araldite to attend to a long-overdue repair, or I'll be up to my ears in grease and muck from some or other job, when a gormless face presents itself, somewhere on my property, to announce the self-evident popping round that is always an unwelcome intrusion into my valuable time. Can't these fuckers at least text or phone, to give *some* advance warning? What kind of moron doesn't even contemplate that someone they plan to visit might be doing something that won't benefit from their company? I can't even rely on being able to crack one off in peace. Gaz.
  11. Gareth Hunt

    Coffee snobs

    I know you lot have done the cuntishness "Coffee wankers" previously, but here's a new one on me. Back in the day, when I was advising Nescafe on the blending of three of the finest types of beans, you could get what you wanted in a cafe simply by asking. Wind forward to the present day, with me at the counter of a "boutique" coffee shop (no other nearby options, before you Gareth me for that), and the fucker won't serve me an Americano. "We don't water down our coffee", says the smug cunt behind the counter. Fucking wax-tached, moonfaced freak refused to make it like I want it and smart-eyed me as though *I'm* the cunt. Luckily, I had a sachet of Nescafe and found a half full pot of hot water that some hipster got with his herbal tea. Gareth.