Eliza Doolittle

Slut!

This cockney slag who sells flowers (a euphemism for dirty stinking East-end prostitute) is befriended by a gent named Henry Higgins who, rather than pay her a few quid for a quick bit of business from behind against an alley wall in view of carriage traffic on the Pentonville Road, decides to take her in and turn her into a lady and introduce her to society- before then deciding to fuck her. 

But Eliza, who now can tell everyone that the plains have higher than average precipitation than other areas on the Iberian Peninsula (that’s fucking clever, I hope you all get it), ends up being a using coont and decides that she doesn’t need the man who quite possibly saved her from being garrotted by Jack the Ripper for being the filthy two-quid whore she is. 

Nominated by Palais via Twitter who, in a series of Tweets writes: “No, just YOU fucking wait Eliza. Henry Higgins was nothing but fucking nice to you, you ungrateful fucking cow. You were a fucking flower girl FFS, so don’t get your fucking knickers in a twist just because someone was nice enough to try and drag you out of the gutter, where quite frankly you will always belong.” 

I’d love to see what Palais thinks of that filthy watersport-loving skank Mary Poppins.

Delta Goodrem

If John Lennon were alive and had to pass kidney stones the size of your thumbnail through his urethra, he may sing his classic Yuletide song Happy Christmas (War is Over) in the same chalk-down-blackboard-headfuck way that Delta does – come on listen, even if it is just to shit people off in the same room as you.

Fuck Delta Goodrem! I don’t trust the bitch, she is Australia’s Celine Dion and for that she should be fucking mocked and spat at just as like Nikki Webster was. The coont!

Victorian Australia Post workers

I haven’t written one Christmas card this year. I have my reasons, Christmas ain’t what it used to be for me for personal reasons; you know since the divorce and everything. The kids won’t be with me this year so I just didn’t really get into the spirit of it.

I’m also an inceredibly slack fucking bastard and I finally thought I had the perfect excuse not to send any Christmas cards - a postal strike!

“Oh thanks for the card. Did you get mine? No? Oh shame, must be the postal strike, the fuckers.”

See? Perfect!

Only now Australia Post workers in Victoria have opted out of stopping mail in favour of a mass rally.

Thanks a fucking lot, you selfish postie coonts!

Davinia Phillips

The offending Christmas card.

Davinia Phillips is a mum of three red-haired children, who saw red when she came across a Christmas card at a Tesco supermarket in York, England which read: “Santa loves all kids. Even ginger ones.”

Did she laugh like she should have? No. She lodged a complaint with Tesco and the card was removed from stores around the country. While critics dubbed her a “ginger whinger”, supermarket chain Tesco released an apologetic statement saying the card had been withdrawn.

While I really sympathise with Miss Phillips for having three children with such a cruel disability, the message I have to her is: Baby Jesus wants you to lighten the fuck up, ya northern coont!

Cuddles the labrador

Some labradors are trained to guide visually impaired people through busy streets and on to public transport. Others can use their keen sense of smell to sniff out narcotics, contraband and even bombs. And then there’s fucktards like Cuddles who ate Christmas decorations and presents including a scarf made from baubles and ribbon and cost his owners $7000 to get them surgically removed – $7000? Fuck that! If he saved a child from a runaway car and had his legs crushed maybe I’d consider it.

So, what the fuck Cuddles? Are you greedy, stupid or both? How does that work? What part of your instinct told you that was food? You’re the reason many dogs are just for Christmas and not for life you stupid, overly placid K9 coont!

Rosemary Stanton

Find a story, any story about food and obesity in the Australian media and there will be a a quote from the chief commissioner of the Foodie Fun Police herself, Rosemary Stanton.

Yes we know we should eat more spinach and less fucking bacon, but we don’t because spinach is the devil’s snot and bacon is porno flesh from heaven. So fuck off, what with your degree in foody goody two-shoesness, and let us eat a decent a fry up in peace – coont!

You know, life is a bundle of arse coont. We’re taxed to high heaven, we can’t drink, eat, drive, fly, hunt, fish or fuck without some coont telling us it’s bad for us or the environment and then she has to fuck up the one simple pleasure we have left – the Saturday morning gut bash.

Imagine going to dinner with the bitch!

Who is the biggest Coont in the Shadow Ministry?

Please vote for who of Tony Abbott’s Shadow Cabinet Ministry you think is the biggest coont (including Abbott) - yes I know it’s hard!
The top three will be added to The List.
Names with * are already on The List, but feel free to vote for them.

Douglas Erwin Bollinger

Visit any sports club and you’ll always find the resident nuff nuff who does fuck-all for the club, but always seems to pick up some kind of award on presentation night for his help around the place – which barely extends beyond making every other bastard feel a little bit better about themselves. 

The Australian Cricket Team’s nuff nuff is Doug Bollinger.

West Indian captain Chris Gayle was right to ask “hey mon, who the fuck is that bumbaclot with the carpet on his head?”

Sure Gayle knows who he is now. And not because Bollinger got him out with a fluke catch behind – after the Jamaican tried playing a foolish Twenty20-style shot over wicket-keeper Brad Haddin only to be caught by a brilliant outstretched one-handed catch during the Second Test in Adelaide.

No, Gayle knows who Bollinger is after watching the New South Welshman chuck a spaz when a an LBW appeal was rejected, and from when he claimed to have taken a catch even though the fact it bounced a foot in front of him was more obvious to everyone than the rug on his fat fucking bonce.

Racing revellers

You can look at this picture for hours and still not find all the coont within!

Scroll down for more Spring Racing coontishness.

Rebecca Twigley

Enough already!

Please go away until next year’s Brownlow Medal!