Crumbling Under Nightmarish Truth

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Depeche Mode “People Are People”


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Anyone easily offended would be advised to tread somewhat carefully for the next few minutes as the following content may cause you to bleed through your eyeballs and foam at the mouth like Cujo with after a mouthful of popping candy. I can assure you that I have no intention of courting controversy. Actually, that’s not strictly kosher. I have a dash of intention of courting controversy but not because I want to enrage a nation or anything nefarious like that. I just happen to think that debate is a good thing and sometimes the elephant in the room just needs to be spoken about. For those of a weaker disposition, allow me to offer you a heads up. The word in question comprises the letters C, U, N, and T, and precisely in that pecking order. You will hear it many times during this essay and, should that be too much to bear, then I shall close with a link to a delightfully inoffensive tale called An Evening With Frogger as a PG-13 rated alternative. However, you’ll still need to scroll past the pictorials.


If you stopped a hundred random passers-by in the high street and asked them their opinion of the word cunt, then I’m guessing at least half of them would walk on by. A further 25 would likely turn up their noses in disgust and, the remainder, cuff you round the face for being so crude. It remains possibly the most offensive term in the English language and could turn a fishwives’ hair pearl white from over fifty yards away. Unless you work on a building site or suffer from acute Tourette’s, in which case, it’s commonplace and widely accepted. Like any good word worth its salt it has multiple meanings, although most habitual would have to be the verbalization of extreme disdain towards another individual.

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Do I ever use it to relay my annoyance? Yes, on occasion although I do use it sparingly and obviously only in the correct company. When assisting a frail senior citizen across the road, should a moronic motorist almost plough us both down where we stand, I wouldn’t then see fit to holler “CUNT!!!” as this would invariably cause Ethel to prolapse and put another ten years on the old dear in the process. I choose my words carefully and keep it far from her fragile ears. Thus, I shake my fist to the tune of “RASCAL!!!” and allow her to go about her business unperturbed, while secretly cursing the cuntish behaviour of said motorist.


However, put me in a warehouse full of alphas and it becomes a different story entirely. Firstly, there will likely be one of them nicknamed cuntface and, secondly, I would use the word as though there was no tomorrow just because I can. Ordinarily I reserve the right to use this word for those instances when waxing about the media. You know, tabloid cunts, and other unceremonious disses of its ilk. Therefore the impact is far greater on the rare occasion when it rears its head during conversation.

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I have just come from a lengthy tête-à-tête with a dear friend and they voiced their frustration towards a particular individual who was deserving of this branding. Her rant went a little like this: “Friday – dealing with an individual who doesn’t like women, doesn’t like himself, doesn’t like that the rules apply to everyone, yessir, everyone, even you — you pompous, self-congratulatory bastard. The rules apply to you, no matter how much you wish they didn’t. And you can’t suck me into that black hole which is your brain and your teensy-weensy way of thinking. The world does not revolve around you, and just because a young woman less than half your age showed you up, demanded respect when you deemed her “less-than” …well, you will see someday that you are not the be-all, end-all of our existence, just because you have friends in high places. Guess what? They’re in those high places, and you’re a pee-on like the rest of us.”


When reading vitriolic words such as these, the word cunt springs to mind. Of course, it didn’t make an appearance on this occasion, although I would say it was more than justified. Thus, I have decided to give further insight into some particularly cuntish behavior which riles me to the nth degree. A bouquet of cunts shall be exposed for y’all; each deserving of the ultimate insult and largely beyond redemption. It’s time to discover what really grinds my gears and the Crimson Quill is sharpened, filled to capacity, and primed to name and shame these ten ignoramus breeds. Without further ado, I bring you my chosen cunts.


Harry Bromley DavenportBrainstorm


Cunt #1: Yo’ Ass is Mine Cunt


Our inventory begins with a particularly heinous offender to set the tone. The cowardly bully who gets his/her kicks from the misery of others, this particular cunt uses a strategic selection process to locate their mate, always ensuring that the stakes of control swing dominantly in their favor. Over a course of years, they whittle down their spouses’ liberty, asphyxiate their self-belief, and remind them at regular intervals that they have absolutely nothing to offer and are richly deserving of every word of hateful abuse headed their way . These festering fuckwads hide their insignia from plain sight, making sure each purple bruise is situated in a concealed location so as not to arouse suspicion.

Cunt #2: Over-familiar Sarcastic Cunt

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We’ve all been there. Our buddies introduce us to somebody new then, as we relax into normal banter mode, the fresh party see fit to join in the festivities. I welcome any ridicule thrown my way and encourage this openly but there’s a big difference from one we’ve only just met taunting you about your swollen right testicle and some unknown quantity calling you Space Nuts. Have you seen my balls? No, so mind your bee’s wax. Sarcasm is overrated in my opinion, delicious when used correctly, many just don’t know where to draw the line. I’m a joker, let’s not get it twisted, but I know when to don my clown shoes and squirty flower and when to shut the hell up. Certain unintelligible goons, however, do not and they therefore earn themselves this mantle.

Cunt #3: Rebel Without a Clue Cunt


Willing to fight for a lost cause, these drones possess not so much as a dribble of individuality. They stick staunchly to the rules and won’t bend them for anyone. Underpaid off-shore call centers are a known hive for their congregation. They sit at their poky desks, all six chambers loaded with a different preset response, just desperate to lay ruin upon your good mood. Wretched gatekeepers every one of them, they point-blank refuse to throw you a bone and even take their cuntish little training manuals with them on their lunch breaks, just to swot up on policy and procedure a little further. Then they have the gall to inform us that our call is important to them.

Cunt #4: Cunting Media Whore

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Where to start? These morose motherfuckers incite my rage like no other. Prophets of doom, all intent on earning their five-figure salaries at the expense of anyone deemed newsworthy. Lacking in anything resembling moral fiber, they contort folks’ misdemeanors and spread their slander far and wide. Tabloid press are the bottom-feeders, not a scruple in sight and an entire waste of a reasonably adept cerebrum, these vile cunts call to mind our good friend the house fly. Spreading noxious puke wherever they buzz, it seems fitting that they eventually have their assholes fed through their faces via a rolled-up rag. I make no attempt to mask my contempt for these charlatans and one day plan to take a steaming dump outside their revolving doors, light it up, then call the alarm by stating that Christina Aguilera is outside and has just been spotted fingering herself in Costa Coffee on the high street.

Cunt #5: Pass The Buck Cunt

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I’m a shit-licking bastard but it’s fine as my childhood was troubled. Whilst I understand cause and effect and realize how conditioned we can be by both our role models and environment, there has to be a line drawn somewhere. Case in point, the prejudiced bigot. Just because you were taught that this is the correct attitude to advocate, it doesn’t mean you have to conform. We live in a blame culture, anything untoward is merely someone else’s bad and this is such a deluded and undignified way to exist. Folk like these seem to conveniently forget that they have their own minds, and can make their own choices. Lemmings the lot of them, march ’em off a cliff I say and then blame it on Thelma & Louise.

Cunt #6: Mine’s Bigger than Yours Cunt

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One thing ruffles my ass-feathers more vigorously than most and that is the superiority complex. I wouldn’t dream of looking down my nose at another or making them feel inferior. Who died and made me Jesus anyhoots? Since when have I possessed the authority to declare myself better than another? It’s a perilous game undervaluing others, just look at Benny from the Bronx. Karma and Robert Ginty have a lot in common you know. They both find a way of coming back to bite you on the ass if you act out of turn. Let’s see how superior you are when doubled over with food poisoning; see who’s prepared to hold back your hair then you arrogant twats.

Cunt #7: Justin Bieber


Okay I’ve got to come clean. I think the word may be a little too strong to describe my nemesis, the Bieber. However, he really does receive a roasting and he has become like an itch that I jut have to scratch. There are far more deserving nominees than this wayward wally but, alas, nobody quite so ripe for the picking. Justin’s not entirely to blame and admittedly he can dance some (so can Carlton from Bel Air but I hardly see a groove train forming behind him…and he’s far cooler). Unfortunately for the Bieber he suffers from a most unsightly affliction…existence! Once quoted as believing himself akin to the Kurt Cobain of our generation, I have simply no words for his tomfoolery. I’d rather his statement just marinate on its own and let you draw your own conclusions. I’ve already reached mine…Justin you’re a cunt!

Cunt #8: Cry Me a River Cunt

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This entails those without a morsel of empathy. Bitter and caustic, they lack even the most basic human kindness and, in a situation whereby one is evidently suffering, they spout shit like “buck yourself up son”. “But…but my dad just died” is met by “Whinge, whinge, whinge…are you man or mouse?” Once they inherit their own hatchlings, these cold killers scald their offspring for crying like babies…when they’re actually still breast-feeding. Attaboy, if you graze your knee, “man up” is the priceless advice they supply, creating an entire planet of unfeeling pricks in the process. As for me, well I get a lump in my throat each time I watch Titanic. No blubbing, let’s get that out there, but my bottom lip does involuntarily tremble. Does that make me less of a man? What do you mean yes? Guess I’m the cunt then. Speaking of which…

Cunt #9: Attention Deficit Disorder Cunt


I must tread carefully here because this one I’m definitely culpable of. Through nowt but best intention I set myself up to fail spectacularly through a thousand well-mannered pledges which I simply can’t deliver on. It’s never meant out of malice but unfortunately I possess the attention span of a parakeet with dementia so there that is. I read via skimming techniques picked up in the corps, once plucked a nipple ring out through sliding through my barely opened car door and getting side-tracked by something shiny instead. One pluck and I was a chest pip down, for two years until laser surgery provided me with miraculous restoration. Just can’t help myself I’m afraid, I have received lampposts to my grill on numerous occasions because of my total lack of awareness.

Cunt #10: Swiper No Swiping Cunt


Honesty can be overwhelmingly liberating, should you invite it. I have made it my business not to tell a single lie through my work, every preposterous word which leaves my flapping lips reeks of authenticity. Hasn’t always been the case, but once you learn how to arm up your bullshit filters you quickly discover that the dreaded blurt isn’t such an odious endeavor after all. Once folk know where they stand with you and you surround yourself with sufficient neon lighting, you inherit this iddy biddy little thing called conviction.Honesty is generally the best policy although clearly there are times to tell the odd white lie. When dear Mrs Parsons catches you with your index finger up her prize pooch Pixie’s ass-funnel, it is advisable to blame it on a slip rather than licking your lips and running your tongue round your chops whilst giving Pixie another rectal flossing.

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So there we have it. Ten different strains of cunt, some of which are admittedly more malignant than others, but all of whom are culpable of earning their stripes in one way or another. The world has long since become desensitized to foul language and words like shit are now simply part of the school curriculum but this particular word still manages to ruffle feathers like no other. Should I be engaging in a spot of feral coitus then I would still choose my words carefully. “I’m going to pound your pussy” still has the necessary bite to it without potentially enraging my opposite number and I would much rather use it sparingly, for times when its inclusion is truly justifiable. If that makes me a cunt, then so be it. However, I would argue that I’m a benign cunt.

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Click here to read An Evening With Frogger






  1. Not a fan of the term. Never will be. Actually think it quite foul, demeaning. If I hear it my first thought is deplorable. Don’t consider myself a prude. The old double standard rears its ugly ugly.
    That aside I very much enjoyed your ongoing angst with our Canadian Beebsy boy. LOL
    And finally feel compelled to add, they are not all created equal. No Siree Bob.

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