Monday, October 15, 2012

Bressie Must Me Stopped

I am not a tolerant man.  I am especially not tolerant of a state organisation that serves up stale shit and calls it pandy.  The state organisation that's got on my tits this week is RTE (surprise surprise).  You see RTE is an organisation in serious trouble.  Faced with satellite channels with enormous budgets RTE has to spunk it's paltry, by comparison, budget on it's very limited talent pool, at the expense of any quality television.  To this end when it chances upon someone who can generate a couple of extra ratings they whore that person out as much as they can.

Older readers will remember with fondness my absolute hatred for those abominations the Seoige's.  Well there was a time when RTE literally could not have a television show without Grainne Seoige being on it.  She had an afternoon show, she was on the bizarrely named "Ireland's Got Talent" and countless other light "entertainment" shows.  Well the times, unlike Grainne's wardrobe, change and people got sick fucking shit of Grainne adding a throat full of phlegm to every Irish word she spoke, Christ I hate her.  Well in a rare bit of me getting what I want I recently saw Grainne on The People of The Year Awards (honest to Christ but if you saw it on Fr Ted you split your hole laughing at a never ending collection of losers, both physical and mental) and by fuck is she after packing on the pounds.  Her bingo wings are now so well developed that she could attempt a free fall from several miles and be guaranteed of a safe return to earth.  As one wag put it, unless Grainne lays off the cakes she'll end up with diabetes, loose an arm and then she'll be a person of the year award recipient next year...fat cunt ( I added the last bit).

If you're fat know what angle to get a photo taken from...i.e. behind a fatter person

Then after the nation tired of Grainne, RTE tried a big push on Kathryn Thomas.  She had the ever popular (with spud munchers the length and breadth of the country) Winning Streak (of piss), she had  The Voice of Ireland and then in what really was the cruelest joke Operation Transformation, where she patronised some fat fuckers into a inch of their drastically cut short lives. The show deserves a full post on its own but since nobody watched it a lot of the references just wouldn't be that funny.

Kathryn Thomas...on a good day

Well all this leads me to RTE's latest pathetic attempt to woo the improtant pre-teen, texting demographic with nobodys favourite cunt, Bressie.  Bressie, or Neil Breslan as his parents call him, is a failed rugby player and musician and can currenlty be seen doing the chicken-in-a-basket circuit of Ireland's dingier cabarets...well I said he was a failed musician.  This wank stain on the underpants of humanity first came to my attention when, like Grainne, he regularly appeared on Ray Foley's lunchtime show. This is where he got the nickname Bressie Now someone somewehere thinks that this long streak of piss has some form of Yodalike conduit to "young people" and what they like. He doesn't, in fact he knows nothing except what his producer tells him. So back to Neil Breslan, he like so many has-beens and never-gonna-bes before him has washed up on RTE's primtime television schedule. I mean don't get me wrong, the are, I'm sure, far worse than him on RTE, Ryan Tubridy for example, but does he need to be on every fucking show??? First it was The Voice of Ireland, now he's on this show The Gathering 2013, a show from what I can gather is about bringing the diaspora home. Why the fuck would anyone who escaped this miserable shithole want to return? To what, water taxes and unemployment?? Oh no, please take my sunkist life in Australia for a damp shithole n Mullingar, for fucks sake. Anyways, all this is my way of saying that we need to stop/kill Neil Bresslan. I can't take another show starring wrinkly auld cunts favourite "Bressie". And it s all a pathetic attempt to get more young wans watching RTE's shit television shows. I am personally offering a ten euro reward for Bressies bollocks stuffed in Bressies mouth and his carcass burned live on RTE's new reality show Celebrity Burnout.

Friday, July 30, 2010

Sex Sat Nav

I recently came into possession of a Garmin Nuvi 765T satellite navigation device. This sat nav unit does everything that you can imagine a sat nav can do and more. It has lane assist, 3-d buildings, blue tooth so you can make hands free calls, the ability to store mp3 files so you can play music or audio books, you can even put pictures on it to view while driving if paying attention to the road gets too much for you (if you want a more eloquent review of what this gizmo does then go here). You may think that a sat nav unit is not the best present for someone who never goes anywhere but that's neither here nor there. In fact this week alone I have used the unit to navigate my way too and from work....a journey I have made everyday for the last ten years (and it still wanted me to take the main roads all the way!!!!!).

Anyways, it was on one of these too-and-from-work journey's that I had my eureka moment. What could make a romantic evening more special than a robotic voice telling you how to make your lover come like a freight train??? Introducing the revolutionary Cubaboy Sex Sat Nav (pat pending). The Cubaboy Sex Sat Nav (pat pending) guides you all the way from initial foreplay (including optional oral sex) all the ways up to full twenty-in-a-room full penetrative fuck orgy, with added anal assist. This device is so easy to use it can be used by twelve year old virgin having there first fuck behind the bike shed. Simply choose a routine from the menu (quick shag, DP, Anal etc) and let a Stephen Hawking like voice guide you and your partner to ecstasy.

"INSERT FINGER.....INTO....ANUS..FOR......30 SECONDS........STIMULATE GONADS IN........2 MINUTES" shrieks the Cubaboy Sex Sat Nav from the bedside locker. "EJACULATE.....EJACULATE".

The Cubaboy Sex Sat Nav (pat pending) is so user friendly that it can recalculate your route to a good fuck if you veer of course. Spent too much time on rimming??? No worries, the Cubaboy Sex Sat Nav (pat pending) will simply correct your remaining fuckery and get you back on course. The new and improved Cubaboy Sex Sat Nav (pat pending) now comes (heehee) in a variety of "sexy" voices, Stephen Hawkins, Cubaboy, Pat Kenny etc. Order now and get absolutely nothing greedy fuck.

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Wednesday, June 09, 2010

The Recession Isn't All Bad

Whoever said that every cloud does not have a silver lining is a stupid cunt in my view. While we are all suffering in the current financial climate, (well I'm not, I have a relatively good job, tracker mortgage and didn't pay too much over the odds for my home), I am absolutely delighted to see some members of society are suffering more than others.

The first group of people that I take absolute pleasure in seeing dossing around the streets are taxi drivers. In my view taxi drivers are the scum of the earth, just above politicans who are the scum of the sub-earth. They are a bunch of pox ridden, foul smelling know-it-all's who have no discernible talent apart form being the new Dick Turpins of the highways. Who amongst us have not been robbed by one of these Aids ridden cunts. During the "boom" times in this country taxi drivers made so much money during the Christmas period that they could afford to take the entire month of January off and go on holidays. The one thing that they are supposed to be able to do, i.e. drive, they seem completely incapable of doing. Lanes, indicators, courtesy to other drivers are all foreign concepts to these cocksuckers. I hope you all die horribly in grisly car accidents you absolute cunts.

The second group to get a lash of the Celtic Recession are those purveyors of human misery, pub owners. Another group who during the boom time became absolute millionaires on the backs of people's greed and stupidity. Everytime a pub goes out of business in this country I have a little toast to myself.....using affordable beer purchased in a supermarket that tastes better than the cheap overpriced swill that passes for beer in Irish pubs.

The last group whom I personally would like to take a bottle of petrol to are the good people of Soundstore. If you're not Irish Soundstore is (again) a purveyor or cheap electronics at sky high prices. When I purchased my home a few years ago I had, like everyone else, to fit out the house with all the modern gadgets, i.e a fucking washing machine, toaster, t.v etc. I did my shopping in that kip that passes for a shop and my total bill came to two thousand, two hundred and twenty three euro and fifty cents. I should mention at this point that I had to purchase several tv cables at the same time and it was a cash transaction. When I asked the auld wagon would there be any discount for cash she just looked down her old, over made up nose and said "no". They wouldn't even throw in the cables. When I handed over the cash she said I didn't need to bother with the fifty cent. So for spending approximately half an hour with me I gave Soundstore enough money to pay this cunts wages for an entire month. Needless to say, I will never, ever ever spend another cent in that shithole. Everyone I meet I eventaully tell this story to and I encourage people not to spend any money there.

You may ask what side of the bed I got out of this morning. Well I write this article because over the course of the morning I have heard ad's for each of these scumbags (who minted it in the good times and forgot about delivering a fair customer service) and who now a on the skids bigtime. I have just one message for you, Rot in hell you fuckbags!!!

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Tuesday, June 08, 2010

Time to Exterminate Ugly Bastards?

I read with interest last week (and that alone should give you an indication how fucking boring my life is) that an American bank fired some broad for "being too hot". As you can see from the picture attached to this drivel she's not exactly "hot". "Tepid" might be a more applicable, but she certainly does nothing earn a place in the auld wank bank.

Certainly that lady's work place must be as bereft of hot chicks as mine is if she is considered "too hot". But either way it got me thinking shouldn't we as a society be removing mingers from our work places?? And why stop there, why not ban ugly cunts from public places altogether?? Who of us hasn't had the experience of going into a work place, usually public sector or bank (delete as appropriate, or not...ohhh satire!!), and being greeted by an ugly, slovenly heifer of a woman hell bent on making your life as miserable as she looks?

I say we need to round up all these pie chasers and give them the choice of extermination or spending their lives indoors in servitude to us better looking folk. We can lure these porky cunts from their ruts Pied-Piper style by means of blasting ice cream van music and wafting chip grease in their direction. Then slip the van into gear and let it roll off a cliff, followed by vast wall of elephant man like ugliness.

And here;s another thing, why is it that there is an inverse proportionality in amount of clothing worn on a hot day in directly related to a woman's "hotness". Who of us does not have an image of a fat chick with too little clothes on on a mildly warm day. Then you see a really hot chick completely covered bah!!

In order to make up for the grunters we will exterminate, or force behind closed doors, we will have an obvious shortfall in labor. I have thought of this and hope to liberate all hot bodied prostitutes and poll dancers to walk amongst us as (almost) equals in legitimate employment.

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Thursday, June 03, 2010

How Do You "Unfriend" Someone??

It seems today that everyone is obsessed with Facebook, or Friendpage as the IT Crowd hilariously lampooned it. It's become so mainstream that South Park recently devoted an episode to it. I must admit that I do not have a Facebook profile but recently, like Stan Marsh, find myself being pressured into getting one by friends and various interest groups. I must admit that in the past few weeks my resolve is beginning to weaken and I have become interested in what goes on within the walls of this community that I am (self) exiled from.

I understand that on Facebook you request to be someones "friend". Now as you may know I am not a "friendly" person. In fact the sight of other people generally gives me the liquid shits. And the very thought of interacting with other human beings puts me into a Howard Hughesesque state of apoplexy. The inevitable conclusion from accepting someone as a "friend" is that you can "unfriend" them if they, say, sleep with your wife, or shoot your dog, or fail to give you a sheaf of wheat on Farmville (or whatever the fuck people do on a virtual fucking farm)!.

This begs the question for me, how do you "unfriend" someone in real life. I was recently at a gathering (and before you ask, yes, it was a gathering of fucking people, not stones) and I made a cardinal error, for me, of acknowledging someones existence. It was a casual "how's it going" said more as a matter of course rather than any actual interest on my behalf as to the persons well being. I'm not sure who was more shocked by the exchange, me or him. We both continued on our way not a hundred per cent sure of what had just taken place. Now I find myself in the horrible situation of having to say "hello" everytime our paths cross.

I really did not want this. How the hell do I "unfriend" him. Can I take him aside and gently tell him I've made a horrible mistake and that he should never look in my direction again?? That seems slightly odd because it would be more words than I've ever said to him and in my attempt to "unfriend" him I may end up actually starting a conversation with him and getting on and becoming an actual friend. OR, what if he just looks at me blankly and asks who the fuck I am??

Ohh fuck this, why can't there by a button that I can click to just delete him from my list of friends!!! That's it, next time I see him I'm going to walk straight up to him and punch him in the fucking face...cunt!!

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Friday, October 09, 2009

Proof if proof was needed today that the entire world is completely fucked up, as (black) President Obama was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Yes you read correctly and if you don't believe me look here. Heretofore you actually had to achieve something of huge significance to mankind to get a Nobel Peace all you have to be is black.

And before you say, "oh here's old Klu Klux Clan Cubaboy on a rant again", think to yourself what has he actually done since he was inaugurated earlier this year?? Nothing??? Well I can't think of anything either. I can remember what he said he'd do, like closing Guantanamo Bay concentration camp (still open), pull out of Afghanistan (sending 40,000 more troops soon) and end the was in Iraq (still ongoing and no sign of a withdrawal). He's even kept Bush's education program.

I have previously stated what I think of the hoopla surrounding this guy. I'm not saying the guys a dud, just that like all politicians he does very little and collects a large paycheck whilst doing it (this months check will be almost a million quid higher!!).

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Middle Toilet Cubicle Syndrome

Some thing's been bothering me for quite some time now, and I'm not sure how to approach the issue with you. You see the subject which I am about to talk about is of a delicate nature and involves the most intimate of activities. Loath as I am to mention the subject, today I want to talk about taking a shit. Yes, pinching a loaf, taking a dump, dropping off the Cosby kids, whatever way you want to put it.

Now my problem isn't the act itself. I, like most people, enjoy a good shit if accompanied by the appropriate reading material and finished off with a double ply sheet of Kitten soft toilet roll. However, what I do object to is having to divulge my gastronomy in the presence of other folk. No, I don't mean shitting in front of people, that's fucked up beyond belief. What I'm talking about is the modern work place abomination that is the "three trap" toilet cubicle.

Separated only by a cheap wood chip panel you now get to take care of your most intimate ablutions only centimetres from another human being doing exactly the same thing, only usually nosier and smellier. You know the saying "you think your shit don't stink"?? Well I can tell you that in comparison to some people that I've had the distinct displeasure of sharing a khazi with that that statement rings true. What you will get, depending on the day of the week or the time of the day, is a multi sensory experience which will baffle and astound you in equal measure. Firstly let's deal with the smell. On a really bad day you can be assailed by the smell before you open the outer door to toilet (the actual room as opposed to the cubicle). You're left to wonder what fucking animal died in the vicinity recently. Then you've got sight. We've all been there, you lift up the seat and staring up at you is what can only be descirbed as a mini tree trunk, lodged in the S bend. I've often wondered how the donator can walk straight after producing such a prodigious crap. Hearing. If you're unfortunate enough someone will install themselves in the neighbouring cubicle and proceed to produce a variety of sounds. You have everything from the big heave, followed by the enormous fart and little or no shit(shart), to the simpering grunt, which produces a stinking flow of shiss (half shit half piss). I'll leave touch and taste because even I'm not that fucked up.

But above all these assaults on the senses there's one thing I can't get my head around. In my workplace we have the three-trap cubicle arrangement. Now I will usually go to the one farthest from the main door if I want to take a dump. I won't go to the one nearest the door because this is the most frequently used one and usually has about half a gallon of piss on toilet seat. But I also won't go to the middle one for some unknown reason. The cubicle itself is usually fairly clean. In fact it's probably the least used one. It seems most people don't use it either. For me personally I just don't want to be near anyone in that situation, I reckon that's most people's thinking. And that's fair enough. But what about the fuckers who only go into the middle cubicle?? Who, having seen your third trap door closed and an available first cubicle go into the middle cubicle. Do they have some deep need to be close to someone?? Do they need encouragement or desire recognition of what they've produced?? Well I'll tell what I think...they're fucked in the head.

Stay out of the middle cubicle and afford us all some dignity whilst taking a shit!!

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