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While this page would normally at this time feature a "Cunt Of The Week" post, the breathtaking arrogance and stupidity of one very special man has forced a rethink here at Gooseburger Towers, and some new accolade is required.
Yes, Tony Parsons, alleged journalist and failed novelist has outcunted all of the competition to such a dizzying degree, that there is no realistic chance of him being overhauled any time soon, hence his being crowned EQG's Cunt Of The Month.
In fewer than three-hundred words, Parsons exhibits the most appalling ignorance and xenephobia toward Britain's oldest allies: he attacks the integrity and professionalism of the Portuguese Ambassador, the Portuguese Police and the Portuguese Media, and he even takes to task the Portuguese Public, referring to them as "leering bumpkins".
His finishing touch is to advise the Portuguese Ambassador to Britain, Senor Antonio Santana Carlos thus:
"if you can't say something constructive.... then you just keep your stupid, sardine-munching mouth shut."
Three Four things immediately occur:
1) Shut up, Parsons, you utter cunt.
2) You got something against fish, Parsons? Might explain why your ex-wife prefers women you putrid little sausage-jockey.
3) The Press Complaints Commission will be interested in Parson's views on the Portuguese; he has blatantly contravened sections 12(i) and (ii) of the PCC's Code of Practise; please feel free to vent your feelings about this article and register a formal complaint.
4) I am so ultra-pissed at this cunt, I can feel a whole new blog coming on....
Kate McCann, having complained of an unsympathetic press due to her slim, boyish physique, goes on the Auntie Phil diet, with dramatic results....
Something of an oddity I stumbled upon, somewhere on the net.
Does the girl turn clockwise, or anti-clockwise?
Apparently, there is no correct answer, as such.... 'though I am beginning to think this is a "hoax" optical illusion.... unless you know better?
Tycoon, magnate, mogul, nabob and peoples' hero Richard Branson, is quoted thus in today's Daily Telegraph online:
"....people generally accept around the world that the Portuguese police and press overstepped their mark."
His comments relate to the stance taken by the Portuguese Police in conferring arguido status upon those other two globe-trotters, paragons of virtue, child abandonment professionals to the Queen, and International Ambassadors for Neglected Children Everywhere,* Kate and Gerry McCann.
Take a note, Mr Branson; the legal process of a national state - any national state - is the concern of the state in question, and is none of your fucking business.
Your concern for the McCann parents' "dilemma" is as transparent and as false as your cuddly nice-guy image. You are a ruthless, self-serving businessman, who probably thinks altruism was a U.S. President.
This is either the worst business judgement you have made (and there have been a few - including that little episode in 1971 when you defrauded HM Customs) - or the establishment big boys really have got to you.
Either way, please do the world a favour. Next time you decide to act the hero and leap off of a tall building, please be kind enough to dispense with the harness first?
*Except Portugal, apparently.
More inspired lunacy from the archives of the comic genius that is Harry Hutton;
"I recently bought a SlenderTone System Abs Belt.
Three months ago, I was a fat cunt. Now I'm a fat cunt with a vibrating belt..."
Speedcat Hollydale - whether you love him, or hate him (and personally, I hate him*) - has set a new world record in the blogosphere, by simultaneously awarding "Blogging That Hits The Mark" status to no less than 1094 fellow bloggers.
Naturally, EQG is proud to be a recipient of this illustrious award, and wishes to convey his gratitude to Speedcat.
Moreover, I would like to thank Speedy for something else of great importance; reminding me that no matter how nutty I think I might be going, there is, out there, someone even crazier than myself.
"Thanks, Speedcat.
*And only joking".
You got to love a man like that.
Back in the summer, I posted here what I consider to be the funniest joke in the world.
At the time, I tweaked the HTML settings so that the post font appeared so tiny as to be unreadable.
The only practical way to read it was to copy and paste the text into an editor, and expand the font to taste; I did this to protect the sensibilities of ladies, children, David Duff, and anyone else who might have an axe to grind.
Following a comment from dumkopf** that he was unable to copy and paste the text successfully, and refusing now to defer to all those precious types likely to complain, I reproduce below the world's funniest joke, but this time so that no one reading this page should miss it.
**Actually, the comment from dumkopf is a figleaf. The real reason behind my reposting this is that Beenzzz likes a man who talks / writes dirty. Allegedly.
With thanks to Peter Cook:
There are two guys talking. The first one says:
“You know, the day I met you, I thought you were a cunt. And every time we’ve met since I thought you were a cunt. And it can’t just be me, because everyone who’s ever met you thinks you are a cunt, and probably everyone who will ever meet you will think you’re a cunt. In fact, you’ve got to be the second-biggest cunt in the world.”
The second guy thinks about this for a while.
“So... the day you met me you thought I was a cunt?”
“Yep.”
“And every day since you’ve thought I was a . . .”
“Right.”
“And everyone I’ve ever met thinks I’m a . . .”
“You got it.”
“And everyone I will ever meet will think I’m a . . .”
“Uh-huh.”
“So how comes”, he says, triumphantly, “I’m only the second biggest cunt in the world?”
The first guy looks at him with total contempt. "Because you’re a cunt”, he says.
Updated!
In a change of format, this Friday's "Cunt of the Week" competition has been replaced by Elmer Quigley Gooseburger's "Exasperatingly Difficult To Solve, Odd One Out Quiz"™.
All you have to do to win is to correctly determine from the list of suspects adversaries shown, who you believe is the odd one out, and why!
The options are:
Dr Crippen (H H); Mr Christ (Jesus H); Mr Branson (R); Dr Dolittle (J); Felinus Pinkus; Dr Shipman (H); Dr McCann (G); Mr "What's up Doc?" Bunny (B); Dr Bellamy (D); Dr McCann (K); Mr Bushell (G); Dr Mengele (J); Dr Spock (B) and Mr Hitler (A).
Answers on a postcard to:
Clarence Mitchell
Freemasons Arms
Bohemian Grove
Rothermere
Alternatively, you can dial 0906 GOOSEBURGER* where you can leave your answer following a brief 20 minute recording detailing the rules.
Finally, you can post your answers in the comments box below.
The first correct winner drawn from all entries will win a second-hand Renault Megane**, complete with bugging devices, and featuring its very own novelty nodding Cadaver Dog!
Good luck! The correct answer, and the name of the winner will be posted Saturday 6th October.
* Calls charged at £94.00 per minute, no refunds.
** Of course, it might be a jeep.Or a Micra...whatever.
Update: The answer to Elmer Quigley Gooseburger's "Exasperatingly Difficult To Solve, Odd One Out Quiz"™ is published below.
You sure are going to kick yourselves!
The answer is: Dr McCann (G) - all of the others have a moustache. Sorry, no prizes awarded this time...
Christmas comes but once a year.
To us normal folk - and yes, Duff, that does include me - Christmas is one of those things forced upon us by the marketing spivs in suits, and which typically might have an annual shelf-life of 12 hours to 12 days.
But not for this pair of cheerful simpletons from South Wales, oh no.
As early as 4th September, newly-weds Craig and Kelly Kitchener, who live in Rhondda, had wrapped each other's presents, decorated a tree, and plonked a nine foot tall inflatable Satan Santa outside of their home.
They are quoted by the BBC as saying:
"We just wanted to get into the Christmas spirit. We are like big kids but we both love Christmas".
Mrs Kitchener goes on to say:
"All I'm hoping for is snow for Christmas day now and it will be perfect", while her husband added: "If I had a choice I wouldn't bring them (the decorations) down".
It's enough to make a grown man cry. These chumps not only have the vote (and it's because so many chumps of their ilk do have the vote that we have the shysters in Governement that we do), but they are also most likely elegible for jury service.
Such is one of the less harmful, but most noisome legacies of Care in the Community.
And now to Wales, where the BBC report that a gang of twelve disgruntled schoolboys have been excluded for setting a school blazer on fire.
Excuse me, but exclusion do I hear? Clearly a little effective correction is in order.
Instead of being excluded, this dirty-dozen should not only be made to write "I must not set school blazers on fire" a thousand times each, they should also have bunsen burners - set on a red flame - applied to their testicles.
Then they should be jumped upon by the entire teaching staff.
Finally, they should be forced to attend a series of extended lectures on rights and civil liberties by that crushing bore, David Duff.
That would sort them out.
Little bastards.
By way of a tribute to the Flying Rodent I am giving over an entire page of this blog to celebrate all the great things to have come out of Scotland.
Er....
Hmmm....
Will this do?
Coming next week: Golden memories of watersports in Wales.
More non-news from the BBC, who report today that some non-entity, trying to make a name for himself as an "artist", intends to exhibit a sculpture of a "Dead Prince Harry" at the Trafalgar Hotel in central London.
"Artist" Daniel Edwards said:
"Prince Harry's spirit must have died the day they told him he couldn't serve. That's what this memorial is about."
What a bunch of crap.
This insult to our fine young King-in-waiting has nothing to do with Prince Harry's spirit "dying" when he learned that he would not be sent into a warzone; it is simply self-serving publicity on the part of some jumped up Damien Hirst / Tracey Emin wannabee.
In any event, young Harry's spirit did anything but die at the news that he would not be going to Iraq; below is a photograph of the young pup with his older brother on learning the news....
Update: The Postman has a far more in-depth, and interesting take on this....
Peering into The Mirror this afternoon (as one does) and I see a number of comments alleging that The Whining Midget™ and Skeletor's™ local rag, the Leicester Mercury are up to their old tricks of burning the books, 21st Century style; deleting any comment they deem "negative" to the McCanns.
So of course I thought I would give it a whirl, just to see what gives: (click on image to expand and note the time 15:14)
I then went to boil an egg - runny side up - but sneaked back and refreshed the web page, oh, no more than two minutes later, and saw this:
Goose no more!
Further proof, if any were needed, that The Mercury remains a mere dead-tree provincial fish-wrapper; a cankerous pile on the anus that is the Daily Mail and General Trust Group, and with an editorial policy which would have made Goebbels proud.
Enough to make me call the editor of the Mercury, Nick Carter, a c**t, except I have made a promise of no more swearing on the blog....
