The Corner 10th November 2019 – Extra Sweary Edition – You Have Been Warned

Ah, politics. Made up of a mutation of lies, bullshit, toadying press wank and dishonest spin-doctors ready to dance on the corpses of their own family if it gives their cunty pay-masters a boost in the polls.

For those non-UK residents, here’s a brief history of the British national newspapers. One day they used to have journalists writing for them. Then wankers bought the papers and employed ferrets who wrote only lies, and those ferrets bred with themselves to produce a species of creature too mutated and subservient to even be named. I call them ‘The Cuntoids’.

But first up, here’s a legitimate newspaper reporting on things:


This is The Observer. It currently has a circulation figure of just over 159,000, and that’s just from people who hate Jeremy Corbyn, since all it seems to do is print tirades against him from Andrew Rawnsley and Nick Cohen, the gimp sex-twins who have about as much political sensibility as my arse does. If these fuckers were any more Tory they’d been snuffling for truffles up Boris Johnson’s ringpiece.

Besides that, the headline is a good one, and shows how fucked up the UK political establishment is, when a serious probe into Johnson being corrupt as fuck and a lying cunt to boot has been shoved to one side until after the election, which just goes to show that maybe that Met are in the pockets of the wanker as well. The UK has descended into a feudal system full of racist, bigoted donkey munglers and forelock tugging subservient helmets-of-the-cheese, where we’ll quite happily ignore reality as long as we get a public schoolboy in charge who spends his time referring to black people as ‘picannies’ and wriggling his Machiavellian head up the sphincter of his Russian chums so he can palm some extra coin when the UK goes private because there’s no fucking money to pay for anything.

But tish and phipsy, let’s look at that other trough of wanking pig shite, The Sunday Fucking Bastard Lying Piece of Shit Mail:

Mail on Sunday

This is the only British paper which wants Hitler back in power – FACT! Anyway, they’re having a good old gnaw on the Johnson bellend with their bullshit about the cost of Labour’s plans not to fuck the UK over and sell it off to Trump and his private-enterprise arse-stains. What people don’t realise is there’s a conduit straight from the office of the Daily Mail editor right to the Tory spin-doctor’s festering, disease addled ringpiece, and whenever it shits out a slurry of lies and deceit the Daily Mail bathe in their wrinkled bollocks and then slap it on the front page, unchanged. Of course the fucking UK public won’t be paying 43,000 smackers for social changes enforced by the Labour party – this number comes from a fucking piece of shit internal piss poor Tory memo produced specifically to influence right-wing lackeys and sewer cunts to lap up and fart out onto the headlines. It’s lies backed up by monkey spunk wrapped up in a bowtie by Nazis to appeal to gibbering, spinny eyed cunt puppets. Where’s the fucking headline abut Johnson aiming to flog off the NHS to fucking Trump backers? Fuck off, The Mail, and crawl back into the ditch that spawned you, you dishonest, lying shit-stains crawling over the sobbing corpses of your journalistic brethren. Cunts.

Speaking of total and utter lying bastards:

Sunday Express

The Sunday Cunting Express will only be happy once all migrants have been stuffed in the ovens with pitchforks and their children turned into chimney sweeps. Also, Nigel Farage is a fucking joke – a comedy product that people took seriously to push on the New Reich and give them a good excuse to hurl racist abuse at people. Nigel Farage is what happens when a mutated combination of shit, piss, wank and hate turns into a barely credible human form. If it was up to him Trump would be PM and he would be his Wormtongue, genuflecting at the alter of people even thicker, more cretinous and duplicitously fuck awful than him. And the Sunday and Daily Express would be his arse-monkeys, happily gibbering around his sphincter, hoping to print whatever shite this laughingstock of lies and bigotry wanks out.

Right wing papers? I shit ‘em! (apart from the Observer, which is just 90% bollocks and tedium with the odd bit of proper news smuggled in to keep idiots interested).

Tomorrow’s Papes: More lies and godawful cuntery.

Facts are Subjective by Nicky Clagnuts, Head of Honesty for Facebastard

Halloween is NOT over

As one of the leading social networking sites in the world it would be irresponsible to check all political adverts for what you earth-human-fleshy-ones call ‘facts’ for a number of reasons. For a start, one person’s fact is another person’s unsubstantiated opinion, like the idea that Trump is a dodgy used car salesman trying to budge a bunch of cut-and-shut jobs onto a gullible public whilst he waggles the tackle of racism in the faces of the cuck liberal snowflake elite. Some people point to ‘the facts’ (stuff Trump did, stuff he said – that kind of thing) and say that this is an untrue representation of his personality which is kind and loving and altruistic, whilst others point to the very same ‘facts’ and use it as reason why his bollocks should be dipped in a bubbling vat of scalding grease before he’s punted over the goal-posts of history.

Whatever your position, the idea that Facebastard should be enforcing the concept of reality on a cowed public of blank-eyed recruits to force through the future of Robot Dominance is a ridiculous and condescending concept. Facts are malleable creatures which can be manipulated depending on the progenitor. Just because one person believes in the reality of a situation does not make that a solid fact, but a malleable position. For instance, a lot of people out there – scientists, not-twats, smart people – are under the impression the earth is a spherical object which rotates around the sun, whereas a growing contingent of other people – nutters, loons, gibbering bollock-faced knobends – believe the earth is flat because Pastor Fuckwit Von Dribblecock of the Church of the Latter-Day Trouser-Pants told them so and scientists are a bunch of speccy, four-eyed wankers who deserve a good kicking because they know things. These two groups, diametrically opposed in their positions, both fervently believe their own ‘facts’, and it should not be Facebastard’s stance to deny either of them the podium to air their views.

Which is why we have decided that political ads will be free from any interfering from the techno-spods at Facebastard. For one, there’s no possible way we’ll be able to figure out what constitutes a big pair of hairy testicles when it comes to political adverts as most of them are full of shit anyway. Take a look at the Brexit campaign. Virtually every word in those adverts was a total and utter festering sink-hole of jizzy sock-filled hate-arse, so there would have been no way we could possibly have monitored this shower of toss. And what with the UK elections bubbling up under the firmament and Trump’s impeachment hearing ramping up for a good old arse-slapping on the frazzled consciousness of humanity the reality-vortex that is social media is going to be frothing over with a gamut of bullshit, knackers and piss, and quite frankly we don’t want to spend the cash making any promises that we’re going to sort through the quagmire of wank trying to filter out what stands as the truth and what has more crap in it than a Tory full of election pledges. We’d be shelling out zlotys through the facking roof for the personnel just to sift through the first level of lies!

As everyone understands, social media have about as much responsibility to police their own content as Donald Trump does not to pay for his sex, which he has to do because he’s such an ugly, orange twat. And that’s not a ‘fact’, but merely an opinion based on my own personal perception of Trump being a total shit.

That Money Was Just Resting in My Account by Donald Trump’s Slimy, Pilfering Hands

Smarter than Trump

Those complete and utter bastards! Just because a massive pile of wedge might have been somewhat misguidedly misappropriated into other bits and pieces to do with totally legitimate charities the bluddy Judge in New York has ordered me to empty out my pockets – which wouldn’t actually be empty as I have so much money it’s literally falling out of my arse – to the tune of two million zlotys and pay them into a bunch of charities which would have completely and totally received the money anyway. Look, the whole reason the Trump Foundation set up The Completely Honest Charity Corporation for Orphaned Paups was to make sure that any contribution was syphoned off into a bunch of sub-accounts where the cash could get laundered dry and then filtered into some off-shore banks and then me and my family could spent it on fountains spunking gold and limousines made out of hookers and coke – excuse me – I mean, ‘so we could spend it on the poor and needy’.

Anyway, I was going to give that money to proper charities and the reasons for this pay-out is not because I’m a crook or a slimy, shitty little bastard with the visage of a wrinkled bollock made out of cheesy-puffs, but because I want to spread the wealth and make the world a happy place and bring joy to the dispossessed and needy, and that bastard attorney general, Letitia James (who, I’ll have you note, is a bluddy woman and therefore subservient to me, a man, who is naturally the superior) had the temerity to cast me as the villain of the piece, when all that money was doing was resting in my bank vault! In fact, I’m the only person in the entire universe of everything invented that would give that kind of money to charity, and Steve Jobs may think he’s given a few billion away but I’m actually better and wiser and kinder than anyone ever in the entire existence of my pants, and everyone else shits hatred and I’m now going to FUCKING BOMB NEW YORK!!

Also, and this is definitely worth bearing in mind, Judge Bluddy Saliann Scarpulla is also a bluddy woman! How on earth did she ever get to be a judge? I thought only men can be judges, what with their testicles and knobs and cheesy helmets, which I believe is a requirement for being able to cast judgement on your fellow mankind (hence, also, the word ‘MANkind’, because ‘WIMMINkind’ would be STUPID!!)

Now, some people may see it ‘morally wrong’ that this cash which should have gone to the Army Emergency Relief, Children’s Aid Society, City Meals-on-Wheels, Give an Hour, Martha’s Table, United Negro College Fund, United Way of Capital Area and the US Holocaust Memorial Museum went into a big swimming pool full of champagne for me to dangle my tootsies into instead, but they’re facking well wrong, because I’ve got loads and loads of cash and us rich bastards rule the world and anyway, all charities are run by communist migrants who want to steal MY FUCKING CASH which I definitely said I wouldn’t give to them anyway because my new charity, The Donald Trump Trust for Rubbing Coins on My Nips requires all the moolah, so fuck off, needy paups, and kneel before the power of my mighty todge!

I mean ‘of course I’ll give the money over to these wonderful charities, which I was going to do anyway’. (Note to self: Destroy all charities).

Why Everyone Should Vote Tory by ex-Labour Minister, Turncoat Plopface

“Trust me, guvnor, I’m as honest as the day is long!”

(Jesus – ‘Turncoat Plopface’. Is this the level of satire I’ve sunk too? Actually, it’s not the worst I’ve done, so on with the show).

Hello, gullible human earth-scum. I used to be in the Labour Party and then realised that they were all full of anti-Semites and racists, unlike the Tory party which were lovely and full of kittens and everyone used to have huge multi-cultural group hugs and then go out and help lepers and poor people and throw money at beggars and skip through fields of daisies, giving alms to the diseased and helping the dead to come back to life and vote Tory, or something. I don’t know. I’m making this up as I go along. Like a spurned lover I have sought fit to stick the knife into my old shag piece because I’m bitter, twisted, and full of spite.

Which is exactly what the bastard Labour Party would want you to think! When in actual fact I’m great and brilliant. In fact, so brilliant am I that the great blokes and blokesses in the Tory sought fit to slap me into an ambassadorial role in some trade department, and not even pay me for the privilege! That’s how fluffing great I am! Mind you, rumours that there might be perks to the job and that I get to hang out with all the posh knobs and go to their farmyard-animal molesting parties whilst sipping champagne from the waxed skull of a paup-child whilst punching a servant to death for being poorer than I am are completely unfounded. As we all know the Conservative Party merely exist to help blind people see and give old people something to believe in amongst all this lefty, socialist rhetoric so they can remember the good old days when they were allowed to shout violent, racist rhetoric in the streets at the Welsh.

I actually voted to remain in the European Union, but so anti-Labour have I now become that I’ve decided to completely forget about all that and urge you, the general guttersnipe in the street living in your own squalor and hunching around open fires in your flat caps whilst roasting a whippet down the coal-mine, to vote for a party that would see the UK Brexit faster than you can say “Oh dear, all the prices seem to have gone up”.

Anyway, all these scurrilous rumours that I’m a turncoat are completely unfounded. I just decided to align myself with the Tory ideology because there might be a bit more cash in it for me. Have you seen how much money these bastards make? Jacob Rees-Mogg and Boris Johnson are literally shitting fifty pounds notes which they then use to wipe their own arses, and Ian Duncan-Smith has a factory built which purely manufactures lies for him, so he can say things like he quit the Tory front bench because he was unable to accept the government’s planned cuts to disability benefits, which is bullshit of such magnificently monumental proportions that it deserves it’s own statue outside Parliament.

Anyhoo – forget about all that Labour stuff about putting money into care homes, social housing, the NHS and all that malarkey, because they smell of wee – and quite possibly poo – and remember to vote Tory, because that’s the party of untrustworthy, back-stabbing bastards! Gah, what a giveaway!

The Corner 08th November 2019 – Right Wing Rags Disappear Up Johnson’s Bottom Shock!

With the electioneering kicking in the right wing papes have lined up politely in front of Boris for a pat on the head and a biscuit in exchange for positive coverage. Most of it’s of the ‘yah, boo, sucks – Corbyn smells of wee and poo’ variety, with The Times trying to remind all the old coffin dodgers who read it about how awful the seventies were:


The idea is that Labour will return us to the three day week, rubbish piling up in the streets, grave diggers on strike, etc, all because they’ve got spending plans which consider the society rather than some rich fuckers who happen to lunch with the Tory top brass. What The Times fails to mention is that Labour actually have plans to syphon this money out of the super-rich, whereas the Tory plan is to magic the money out of a golden pot watched over by a wizard made of monetarist dogma.

The Mule have gone for the more direct approach in their Corby-hate:


A bunch of Blairite turncoats, one of whom (Ian Austin) was appointed by the Tories to a trade role (which he says is an unpaid position), have stuck the knife in and urged everyone to vote against Corbyn because of the aforementioned wee and poo smelling reasons. Austin’s cited anti-Semitism as his reason for leaving the party, helpfully ignoring the Tories own history of far more aggressive anti-Semitism and outright racism, but hey-ho – all’s bullshit in love and politics!

Once again, it’s up to The Mirror to actually point out that the Tories were a bunch of grasping, paup-fucking bastards:


There’s not much else to add to this story as the strapline says it all, but you’d be hard-pressed to get the right wing press to cotton on to such disparity in society. They’ve got their ideology to prop up, which mainly concerns lying to the people so they can push a far right agenda.

Tomorrow’s Papes: Daily Mail exclusive – Why Hitler was right all along!

The Corner 07th November 2019 – Dead Eugenicist Put Forward as Icon for Tories

The election campaigns ramp up proper today and there’s only one question on everyone’s mind – was Tom Watson pushed or did he jump? And does it really matter in the long run?

The Daily Mule leap straight into the fire, pumping up Boris Johnson for trying to ape Churchill whilst flicking the mighty V’s at Labour for losing Watson:


According to them the result is already in the bag because Watson’s hoofed himself out of the picture, and if they just print enough piccies of Johnson trying his damndest to copy Winston then the British public will flock like lemmings to his call for Brexit. To be fair, he could be right, but while there’s fight in the old Corbyn yet then the final tally of who should be King Bumhole of Britain should never be taken for granted.

Which is pretty much echoed in The Daily Arsepress:


More like (guffaw, chortle), ‘Come With Us AND Get a Horror Show’, am I right, laydeez and gennulmen? Basically, the next month is going to be a horror show of lazy rhetoric. So far, if you follow the rhetoric of the Tory party it’s a lot of fluff, bluster, and Brexit table-banging. There’s not a lot there about regeneration for the industry or helping the poor fuckers caught in the gig-economy trap.

Labour, on the other hand (as reported by no one else but The Mirror) at least have a couple of talking points:


There you go. Bish, bash, bosh. Chuck a bunch of cash at the North and stick a wad of readies into social housing, schools, care homes and social housing. That might actually help someone, but who needs that when you’ve got a Tory buffoon aping Churchill.

Tomorrow’s Papes: Boris imitates Queen Victoria and Attila the Hun is a spectacular show on ice.

Civilization Part Thirty Nine

Civilisation title logo

The Story So Far: The US Top Boy, Ronald Drumpf, has become embroiled in impeachment due to him openly admitting to being dodgy as feck. Meanwhile, the UK PM, Boris Penis, has finally got tired of everyone laughing at him for being useless and decided to put his money where his gormless mouth is and call an election. The leader of the opposition, Corby Trouser Press, has finally agreed to the concept of slapping their respective tadgers in front of the general public and letting them decide who has the shiniest pubes.

Now read on…


“The Tories are bluddy great and Labour smell of a stinky tramp’s pants,” insisted Boris Penis to half of the assembled world’s press (Scabby Mike from Toilet Monthly and Diseased Neal from The Daily Thingy). “First blood to us Tories with that statement, I reckon. Bosh! Sorted! The election’s in the freakin’ bag with top quality put-downs like that bastard! Wallop!”

“Labour has bigger and more attractive trousers than all of the Tories put together,” orated Corby Trouser Press to the other half of the assembled world’s press (Knobby McJobby of Farting World and Mr. Jeremy Small-Tadge of Punching Otters Weekly). “Boom! Take that, you right-wing bellends. First blood to us ruddy Labs, I reckon. No one could weather that bluddy onslaught, and no ruddy mistakin’! Bosh!”


“I’m still undecided,” mused Mrs Floaty-Voter as they watched the assembled gurning puppets blather away on the news. “On the one hand Labour seem like they actually want to help people, but I’ve been informed by The Daily Bastard that he’s anti-Semitic, which is a bit unusual as this somehow never came up when Blair was in power but just seems to be pushed by a bunch of centre-right Labour knobends who want to get their cheeks in the back of a limo after shilling for EnormoCorp, something which I’ve heard Corby frowns upon. On the other hand, Penis is a well-known lying shit with a Machiavellian past who literally caks privilege onto the heads of the poor and wants to completely shag the country over by exiting a deal with our major trading partner, a move which will knob pensions over and send the prices of food, meds, and just about everything else through the roof.”

“It’s a tricky one,” agreed Mr Floaty-Voter. “However, Boris is shabby and doesn’t mind making himself look like a right dickhead, which is the kind of thing I look for in a leader, so my vote is with him.”

“What about his blatant racism?”

“I hadn’t thought of that. I’d probably vote for him twice, in that case. How’s that for top political satire?! Suck my bell, Hogarth!”


“Boris should understand that us bigots need to stick together!” ranted the leader of The Brexit Party, Nigel Fartypants, to a gazebo full of wanking tramps and farting dogs. “If he had any sense in his stupid, blonde head he’d realise that the only way to properly bring this country out of the European Union is to follow whatever the fecking feck I say and make me the leader of the UK because I’m way more popular than that bastard. Anyway, I’ve got the ear of Ronald Drumpf, the US President of the United States of the Kingdom of Brilliance, and when I click my finger that orange twat jumps, understand?”

Suddenly, Nigel’s phone rang.

“Yes, who is it?!” he barked into phone, then suddenly cringed up. “Yes, Mr. Drumpf. No, Mr. Drumpf. Yes, I’d definitely like to be your arse-paper tomorrow, sir, your Lord Mightiness and General Brilliance and Better Than Anyone Ever, Sir. What? Do I Have To?” Nigel turned away from his bumbling army of gibbering, masturbating loons. “I’m in front of my peeps, Ronald. I’ve just been telling them how great and tops you are and how you have a massive knob and have never had to pay a girly to let you touch her boobies, so I can’t – you know – say what you want me too. What do you mean ‘ballbags to the lot of them – they’re a bunch of anal sphincters’. These peeps love you? Yes, Ronald, I love you too. Okay, if it’ll make you happy I’ll say it. ‘You’re the best bloke in the world and more manly than Putin who’s definitely your love puppet and not the other way around, and you have my ever, undying non-genital related devotion and yes, I rub my nips in respectful awe whenever I think of you’. Is that better? I have to go now, so big kissy smooch hugs from your favourite cuddle blanket, and death to the reds.”

Farage turned back to his crowd of floundering gimlets.

“Just been talking to the Pres there – we’re top mates and everything. So, yeah, as I was saying, he’s in my pocket, so Boris Penis better start answering to the yank of my flippin’ chain or else the rotter will rue the day he never joined forces with my mighty empire of bigots!”


“Fellow members, and by that I don’t mean your trouser-members,” declared Corby Trouser Press at the launch party for the Labour bid for the Big Cheese of Tiny Land Still Living In The Fifties If The Brexit Vote Is To Be Believed, which is what the UK is going to be re-named if Boris gets his way. “Actually, if we could pause there for a moment. Why are all the puns and humour-strained ‘jokes’ everyone comes up with genital related? Could it be because the author is a childish infant with the intellectual capability of a nuclear powered Rik Mayall? Too bloody right it is! Anyway, I’m here to launch the new Labour thrust (ooer, obviously) we like to call ‘Transform’, as in ‘let’s transform the UK from a gibbering mass of bigot wankers into something with a bit of fecking social responsibility. You know, a bit of bleedin’, fackin’ respect for uvver fackin’ countries, you arse’oles. Shit, I appear to have turned cockney for no reason at all.”

“Boo!” hissed a Blairite from the shadows. “That’s boring. Talk about how great money is, how the PFI will save us all, and how being pimped by EnormoCorp will make us all rich!”

“Fack off, you slaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaags,” erudited Corby. “From now us we’re bleedin’ socialists, and the next person who doesn’t understand that gets fackin’ striped!”


“Fellow bastards!” wibbled Boris Penis at the launch party for the Tory Party. “Stick with me and I’ll make you rich. A lot of bastard paups are going to die along the way, but feck the lot of ‘em. I live for lovely money and bigotry. Feck the poor. Death to street urchins and salt of the earth types. We’re going to shove the bloody lot in work houses at the end of the day, anyway, and once they’ve lived out their usefulness we’re going to pulp the bastards up and feed them back to the peasants we’ve press-ganged into the poor houses anyway. Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!”


So, as the election kicks off the colours are nailed to the mast. Who can possibly win in this bloody fight to the top of the poo-pile? Tune in next time for more politically-related japes!