Sunday 31 July 2011

Nominations, Please, For Cunts Of The Year Awards

Surely Have To Be Serious Contenders?


Now we are well past the half way marker, I think we should start to consider nominating potential prizewinners for our "Cunts Of The Year 2011" awards.

There are an infinite number of categories to nominate, for example Piers Morgan might possibly find himself nominated in a number of categories such as "Smug Cunt Of The Year" or "Lying Cunt Of The Year" - but it is a target-rich field in so many categories.

Please indicate which category you are choosing for your candidate or candidates - you can vote early and often! - and some rationale for your choice or choices would help us in selecting the winners.

Don't be shy - there are LOADS of cunts out there all desperate to get an award, so let's be generous and spread the appreciation we all have for these cunts as wide as possible.

The Penguin

Tuesday 26 July 2011

How Much Water Do You Want In Your Bacon?


Frankly, I much prefer my bacon without added water, that way I can fry it rather than boil it in a frying-pan.

So the idea of making it illegal to have any more than 5% water or else having to call it "Bacon with added Water" strikes me as being a step in the right direction.


Cue squeals of rubbish from the British Rip-Off Consortium. "Customers won't like it, it won't be all wet and white-flecked and slimy. They are too stupid to care that we shove 15% or even 22% of added water in to bulk it up and make it weigh more so they pay loads more money for less real bacon, we've been doing this for so long they don'y know any better and won't appreciate it without all that water!"

Cunts.


The Penguin

Still Plenty Of Shit To Go Round


I watched the "Dispatches" programme about how Dirty Rupe corrupted the government and the police. It is pretty obvious that this scandal still has plenty of life in it, and there are plenty of targets to throw the shit at.

Wonderful to see how well some of these creeps are being made to look like the scum they are - Andy Heyman, Yates No Longer Of The Yard, Lord Useless Macdonald. Lord Spineless Goldsmith, Snotgobbler McBruin, Phony Bliar....

More popcorn, please!


The Penguin

Wednesday 20 July 2011

Consulting His Lawyers, I Hope



If I were Berky The Squeaker, nominally in charge of the trough-circus known as Parliament, I would be expecting to hear very soon from top legal eagles representing an old age pensioner who was physically attacked whilst attending an official Parliamentary committee meeting on the Parliamentary estate, in full view of live television cameras.

Probably on a conditional fee basis.

Out of court settlement and gagging order, naturally.

The Penguin

Tuesday 19 July 2011

Room At The Top

The Titans Of The Past Share Some Smug Smirks

Oh dear, seems there's such a dearth of decent candidates that the Met have been forced to promote Cressida Dickhead, famous for her bungled management of the police operation that killed an innocent electrician thought to be guilty of having a bit of a suntan.

If only they still had Ali Dizaei to call upon. Or his mate Tariq Guffaw...

The Penguin

Friday 15 July 2011

Best Show On Earth


As the revelations of collusion and corruption and desperate over-chumminess between the politicians, the press, and the police continue to unravel in a blaze of publicity, trashing reputations and showing all involved to be less than fit to hold any public office or position of influence, it occurs to me that this is probably the Greatest Show On Earth.

Pass the popcorn!

The Penguin

Thursday 14 July 2011

My Revenge, By James Gordon Brown



"Fellow Parliamentarians, I have come down from my mountain retreat to slay the wicked evil dragon that is the Murdoch Empire. I was prevented from doing this while I was in government because I was desperate for their support for my fuckwitted schemes such as selling all the gold as cheaply as possible and wrecking other peoples' pensions.

I was forced to crawl and suck their nasty rancid cocks because they wielded such power and influence and had made a right mockery of the Welsh windbag, and I knew I was an even more obvious target, what with my nose-picking and the issue with the nappies and the rocking-horse. So I invited a raft of evil journalists to the funeral of my poor dead baby, and when that evil hag with the red hair called to discuss running a story about my son having even less spine than I have I wept tears of rage and fury at my cowardice. So I went along to the wicked witch's wedding and invited her and the wife and daughter of the Evil Emperor over for a pyjama party with my wife at Chequers. But all the time I was trying to resist their complete domination of the media.

It was only the advice of my senior civil servants and a whole raft of colleagues in government that stopped me from setting up a full public inquiry, lead by some old tosser like Lord Hutton of Whitewash, to enquire into rumours that Hugh Grant was overheard ordering a take-away chinese meal. They were even more afraid than I was, and so it came to nothing.

But after the Sun turned on me, ruining my conference triumph and supporting the old Etonian flash git, I decided that I had nothing to lose, other than the election, and so I started keeping a record of all the nasty things that they said about me. And I can tell you, here today in this place of power and privilege, that they said lots of nasty things. I would have sued them for libel, but they were all true.

Which is why I am glad that they are currently in the shit and I am able at last to say that I don't really like them."

From Hansard -ish!

The Penguin

Monday 11 July 2011

Why Are So Many Journalists Such Pond-Life?



Why is it that so many journalists are such moral-free zones?

It's not just the "Tabloid Scum" it's the fucking disgusting hypocrites at the so-called "intellectual" progressive (???) broadshits such as the deluded Polly Twatbee and the know-it all and only 16 and three quarters Johann Hari...now exposed as a complete plagiarist and wanker, and not before time.

The Penguin