Le Cunt : Stupid radio commercials that try and make it sound like it’s a good thing to sponsor a child in the third world.

L’evidence : For a start everyone knows that sponsoring a child is not something worthy like sponsoring a donkey in a sanctuary or sponsoring little Timmy from next door when he comes around with a photocopied sheet which makes it obvious he’s not doing a 5k walk but is, instead, going to take all the money he makes and spend it on Mr Freezes and John Player Blue.

Secondly, the ads themselves are ridiculous. Take this one for example, from worldvision.ie

“My 10 year old just told me how to solve a big problem. ‘You know those kids in Africa who get sick because they have to drink dirty water?’, she asked. ‘Let’s send them the Irish rain!’.

Hahahahahaha, it rains in Ireland. LO-FUCKING-L. Have you completely missed the part where our rotting, ancient pipe systems mean we lose 70% of the water we have as it tries to make its way from reservoir to tap? Even in the wettest country on earth we have to implement hosepipe bans after anything more than three days of sunshine. So what water would you like us to send them exactly?

And has your 10 year old thought about the logistics of capturing and then transporting Ireland’s rain? I doubt it. In fact, it appears to me that your 10 year old is probably quite retarded for even considering such a plan. Maybe you ought to get that checked out instead of bleating about African kids who, despite the fact they’re starving and suffering the effects of famine, aren’t complete ‘cappers like your kid.

Then there’s the other woman who says her kids are always going on about how it’s not fair that they have to go back to school. Then she highlights the case of some kid in Africa who can’t go to school at all and how that’s not fair. Then she goes and sponsors the kid and the kid is sent to school.

Did anybody asked that child if they want to go to school? They’re probably quite content hanging around all day, scrumping whatever it is to be scrumped from African orchards and playing Playstation (admittedly it’s PS1 but that’s a damn sight more interesting than having to go to school). But all of a sudden because some do-gooder from Ireland with more money than sense wants to feel good about themselves they’re packed off every morning wearing a scratchy uniform while all their friends play three and in all day long.

Apparently when you sponsor a child they write you letters as it seems giving them money immediately enables them to read and write in perfect English. Yeah, right. The whole thing is a load of bollocks and unless you actually own the kid after spending money on it then what’s the point? If I could pay a tenner a month and have a little black kid of my own to dress up like the cop from the Village People then I’d be well on for it, otherwise I’m not interested.

Le Verdict : Sponsoring children is a dangerous practice and makes for very annoying radio ads. It’s a big pile of bleeding-heart, painful audio Le Cunt.

(5 votes, average: 8.00 out of 10)

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Popularity: 3% [?]

Le cunt: Namby pamby, nanny state gun laws that prevent the depressed, insane and insanely depressed from expressing themselves and their illness in a truly headline grabbing manner.

Who's your money on?

L’evidence: There it is, tucked away in a little BBC News corner of the internet, a mere snippet with all the potential to have been a worldwide story. A suddenly snapping psycho goes on an indiscriminate random rampage armed with what? A fucking penknife. Eight wounded? Pathetic. If  Britain, and indeed the Irish mainland, had reasonable ‘buy a gun in your local Spar’ rules, then incidents of this kind who would have much more drama, excitement and distraction from the drudgery of our daily lives potential. And penknife wielding  is such very, very hard work. The guy was 54, for fuck’s sake. He’s lucky he didn’t give himself a heart attack, what with all the running and the stabbing and the getting wrestled to the ground  And as for all that rich kid Bray stuff, if it was going to happen anyway, and it was, then it was have been quicker and a whole lot less painful to have murder suicided with a semi-automatic weapon. Self-stabbing in the heart, what a fucking chore.

Le Verdict: We will never be able to describe our society as truly convenient until we repeal these antiquated, anti-freedom, Aunty Mary pleasing liberal douche bag guns laws Le Cunt.

(7 votes, average: 4.57 out of 10)

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Popularity: 2% [?]

Le Cunt : Celine Dion, the thin necked, pursed lipped, Canadian queen of cunt pop.

L’evidence : If ever there was an open and shut case of total and utter unequivocal cuntbaggery this is it. Born into a family of impoverished beaver beaters (a blue collar job in Canada), she has risen to almost global domination of the “let’s stay in with a bottle of Shiraz and talk about our relationship” pop market.

Her marriage to uber rich and successful manger helped her cause no end, and even when he got cancer she still managed to produce such magnificently banal hits as ‘My heart will go on’, ‘It’s all coming back to me now’ and the wonderfully awful ‘That’s the way it is’, which somehow managed to reach the top ten in the UK charts in 1999.

Her wild and frenzied gambling problem (this could be hearsay and conjecture) led her to sign a five year deal to perform 5 nights a week in Las Vegas, although built into her contract was an hour break each evening to try and ‘beat the house’. Recently Celine announced she was pregnant with her second child, she denied reports that it would be similar to that hybrid lizard baby in V, but said she was looking forward to releasing some of her rancid breast milk once again.

Le Verdict : Magnificently pointless French Canadian warbler who is feeding the world’s population of mediocre music lovers who have no thought process of their own Le Cunt.

(10 votes, average: 8.60 out of 10)

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Popularity: 2% [?]

Le Cunt : Ghosts, spirits, echoes of the dead, spectres etc

L’evidence : From 1998 until earlier this year I was haunted by a ghost called Victoria. She was a scullery maid who had died in tragic circumstances in my house many years before.

The incident, I learned over time, took place in the room where I hang up my coats and keep sheets and other assorted linen. Every time I went in to get something she would pop out of the wall or from behind a pile of duvet covers and scare the living shit out of me. Annoying. And that’s not even mentioning the ghost droppings she used to leave behind.

People say ghosts are only there because they have unfinished business in the real world. Well, tough shit, ghosts. The minute you’re dead any connection you had with the real world is gone so you need to get over it and stop feeling sorry for yourselves. Ghosts are like the Scousers of the spirit world, they’re always making a drama out of something instead of just getting on with life. However, at least some Scousers have a sense of humour, like Stan Boardman or Cilla Black. Ghosts, on the other hand, are humourless twats.

They think scaring people is their right, well it is not. If they want to float about going ‘Woooooooooooooh’ then fine, just do it somewhere else. People have more important things to be dealing with these days. They are downright unfriendly. When did you ever hear of a friendly ghost apart from Casper? And the only people who want to be Casper’s friends are ghost paedophiles.

Ghosts also think they’re so great because they can go through walls but the reality is that puts ghosts on a par with a sledgehammer or a car traveling at high speed and there’s nothing particularly great about either of those things.

Le Verdict : In short ghosts are a waste of everyone’s time, much like recycling or donating money to charity. They need to realise that nobody apart from some moronic charlatans from Living TV who have a infra-red camera give the slightest shit about them. They are phantom, spooky, apparitionish see-through, misty Le Cunts.

(4 votes, average: 7.25 out of 10)

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Popularity: 2% [?]

Le Cunt : Tromboning – an act of love

L’evidence : Obviously this is not something for which I can provide documented proof. You shall simply have to take my word for it. My current partner recently asked me if I would enjoy spicing up our love life. I thought this would be a most splendid idea. Things have become a bit stale recently so I thought he meant me dressing up in suspenders or a bit of outdoor or even backdoor action. I am a lady of the world and have no qualms in accepting that almost any hole is, as they say, a goal. Instead he made me aware that he had a fantasy which involved tromboning. Innocently I wondered what bringing a brass instrument to bed would do and where we’d actually get one, I had thought Waltons might lend us one, but then he outlined the procedure a little further.

Tromboning involves a lady, or a man I suppose, tonguing robustly at the anus of his or her partner whilst providing manual pleasure to the erect member. And to be perfectly honest it wasn’t that unpleasant in itself. He had a shower beforehand and washed the backside area very well so there would be no ghastly surprise tastes. I settled into a rhythm quite quickly and it must have been awfully arousing because inside a couple of minutes he came quite vigorously. The unfortunate part was at the point of ejaculation he also farted. I can still feel the hot parp of air as it went directly into my mouth before I swallowed it. I have swallowed many things in my time, including his ejaculate, but never his farts.

Le verdict : Therefore, I do not recommend tromboning to any woman (or man but I care less about them as a man doing it to another man is sexually deviant) because although there is a certain amount of pleasure to be gained there is the very real danger that you could end up with noxious gas in your mouth. It is an arsey farty le cunt.

(5 votes, average: 7.40 out of 10)

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Popularity: 2% [?]

Le Cunt: Jesus ‘Whiny Pants’ Christ, pimp, selective healer and founder of a religion absurd enough to have us confusing Mormonism with Darwinism.

L’evidence: The following footage, recently discovered in a cave somewhere in Navan, and authenticated by a team of experts (from Navan), proves conclusively that JC was a whiny bollox whose enduring legacy of misogyny, persecution and endless war is but the tip of of his cuntish iceberg:

Firstly Jesus, if that is your name, nobody asked you about the future, you were the one who brought up your amazing and as yet unproven powers of precognition. The good gyrating folks were merely asking “What’s the buzz?”. That’s “what’s”, present fucking tense. They then politely, if somewhat repetitively, enquire about the Jerusalem departure date. Your answer? A question: “Why are you obsessed with fighting?” Oh yeah, very fucking gnomic. You don’t know, do you? Not only can you not predict the future, you can’t even be arsed checking the timetable in the local donkey station. You dick. And speaking of obsessed, perhaps your holier than thou image might be better maintained if you didn’t have the local bike ‘cooling down your face a bit’, while you orgasmically groan “Mary, mmmmm, that it is good!”. We know you dig the dames, but perhaps a revolutionary strategy meeting is not the ideal place for happy endings.

And when the only sense-talking guy wanders in and tells it how it is, he finds himself shouted down like a Democrat at a townhall meeting. Is it because you is black, Judas? I very much suspect that it is. Jesus Christ? Fucking Racist Bastard Christ more like it.

Le  Verdict: This new evidence strongly points to the conclusion that Jesus Christ was a prejudiced,  peevish, petulant, unable to keep his dick in his pants, Saviour le cunt.

(6 votes, average: 6.17 out of 10)

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Popularity: 2% [?]

Le Cunt : Automatic re-tweeting of people’s Tweets just because they happen to contain a particular word.

L’evidence : This kind of crap:

‘@languageplease’ – Oh my, how witty. Or, to put it another way, how unbelievably pointless. 99.97% of what goes on Twitter is irrelevant anyway and the occasional good stuff gets re-Tweeted when it has been separated from the rest of the chaff. But re-Tweeting something just because it’s got some swear words in it is so pathetic it’s untrue.

Also, they have made me write the sentence ‘Automatic re-tweeting of people’s Tweets’. Tweets. Dear Jesus, what have we become?

Le verdict : Anything that makes the banal even more banal is worthy of being labelled a load of Twitter twatter RT Le Cunt.

(2 votes, average: 8.00 out of 10)

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Le Cunt : Noel Fielding, alleged stand-up comedian and part of so unfunny they should be shot out of a spunk cannon up a Gorgon’s betentacled quim duo ‘The Mighty Boosh’.

L’evidence : Please watch this video. I know it’s 59 seconds of your life that you will never get back but it is necessary to become fully aware of what this cunt foists upon the world.

Ooooh, he talks in a funny voice and says the word ‘monkey’ in a weird way. That is hilarious. There are tears of laughter streaming down my face.

No, wait. Those are not tears of laughter. They are tears of blood and the juice that keeps your eyes moist because I have gouged them out of my head due to the fact that Noel Fielding is about as funny as losing all your money on the stock market.

And as if that isn’t enough he is friends with Razorlight who are to music what Josef Fritzl is to childcare.

Le Verdict : Fielding lives under the misguided impression that being zany is somehow good, that it’s somehow funny. This is not true. Being zany is for cunts like Timmy Mallet or Jimmy Cricket. He also has stupid hair. In short, he is comedy’s answer to AIDS, a stupid voice talking, unamusing, quadruple zany, Russell Brand looking Le Cunt.

(15 votes, average: 8.80 out of 10)

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Popularity: 3% [?]

LE CUNT : Johnny The Bus Driver, somewhere in rural Ireland it seems …

L’EVIDENCE : Like all Bus Eireann drivers,this le cunt decides to turn up over half an hour late in the pissings of rain. Already le cunt. He then decides to take another 10 minutes before finally getting on the road. As soon as we start to move, this le cunt blows the horn on the main street as if he is about to knock someone over.

We all stand up to see what the fuss is. “HOWEYA Tom” roars from le cunts front window,blocking the entire street and holding us up even longer. This le cunts le cuntish friend is just as eligible to be le cunt. After a 5 minute cunty chat about the match on Sunday,les cunts both decide its time to move on with their le cunty lives.

LE VERDICT : This le cunt has no understanding of punctuality or low-down basic human manners. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Le Public-Service Cunt

Submitted by: Ian Healy

(4 votes, average: 10.00 out of 10)

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Popularity: 2% [?]

Le Cunt: Great Minds, a pyramid scheme of shit constructed entirely of semi-literate goobldegook marketing speak that would sully our very souls with its cynical, faux-spiritual money-grabbing kack.

L’evidence: We may as well begin here, at the pretty, pretty website of the company in question, with its joyfully rotating pictures of people sky diving, rock climbing, and in a brilliant fuck you to their adherents, building a human pyramid. Little do they suspect that the parachutes are rigged not to open but to detonate, that the rocks are made of dick cheese while their crampons are in fact tampons, and that the human pyramid is supported by a guy who will rifle through their pockets as he tosses off to the view of their privates before fucking off entirely to let every other gullible wanker fall to an embarrassing and wasteful fate.

Someone called Sinead Duffy

To briefly address some of the front pages queries: Could we be more productive and effective? Of course we fucking could. Could we be arsed being more productive and effective? Of course we fucking couldn’t. Are we passionate about achieving our goals? We might well be, if we had any. Do we need more focus and certainty? Jesus Christ, no. People who are certain about shit are either morons or cunts. There are no certainties, and the denial of this universal truth is for the religously insane  or the mindlessly robotic. Or you know, wing nut Americans.

It all gets much, much worse as one navigates through the site, inspiring quotes penned by luminaries such as J.K. Rowling, blogs entries detailing the almost running out of petrol plus the life lessons to be learned there from and depressing testimonials from either obscure or entirely made up businesses. There’s life coaching to be had or even a kind of celebrityless Monaghan inspired Scientology.  Also on offer are many levels of courses which enable one to inflict this turgid pyschobabble on one’s help for the measly fee of hundreds and hundreds of euro.

The prosecution rests with this quote from the company’s Twitter feed: ‘I take PRIDE in my work – Personal Responsibility in Delivering Excellence.’ “Le cunt!” I cry, “Le cunt!”

Le verdict: Feeding on the weak-willed, moronic and already festeringly corrupt Irish business world during what will soon become a recession of Icelandic proportions, Great Minds, though thankfully doomed, remains the worst kind of pointless, exploitative, Amercanised bullshit Le Cunt.

(5 votes, average: 7.60 out of 10)

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Popularity: 3% [?]