2

This will be brief.

I ask you, am I wrong being a bit put out about this?

I made a simple error. I referred to a co-worker as "the Old Cunt" when speaking with another co-worker (who is also an old cunt, but she is a 'cancer survivor' so she gets away with everything short of murder). It was a slip of the tongue, no harm intended.

I've been given a written warning and a three-day no-pay holiday to 'think things over'.

Oh, I'm thinking. Trust me, I'm thinking.

3 3

you know what fatima? signing a 2 year contract and then telling us that you are 5 months pregnant the next day is NOT COOL.

Nor is wearing full muslim dress for interview and day one in order to hide your pregnancy and be granted time off for fasting and praying, then turning up from day 2 onwards in jeans and tght t shirts - for work, no headscarf and eating sausage rolls for lunch. it doesn't cut both ways.

Telling us that we are whores because we wear skirts and dresses to work is not cool.

asking the boss to feel your bump, then telling everyone that he "touched you" is not cool.

not turning up to work one day a week as you felt "tired" is not cool because we have to do you work and you get paid for it.

taking the full maternity package, having your baby and then returning to work and handing in your notice on the 2nd day back is not cool.

Fatti, you ahve really really pissed me off.

did you know that other people have families? did you know that some of us are carers? do you know that we do not get time off because of them? why do you think you're so fucking special?

I despise the ride you have taken us for. let me point out something to you - we are a charity, not some big fucking overly funded corporation. we could have given your job to someone who would have actually turned up at work.

you take the piss and you are everything i hate about holier than thou fucking breeders. if having kids is so special and importnat fuck off and do that all day instead. oh, you are doing? so the state can pay for your offspring. fucking waste of tax payers money, you scab.

2

I hesitate to call this social misfit a 'colleague', but the other choices are no more apt. Until they offer other options along the lines of 'retarded shitforbrains', 'colleague' will have to do.

I really don't understand the emotionally and cognitively disabled fuck who finds enjoyment in posting the thousands of spams that now clog this site. I admit, the site has seen better days, even without the presence of the current spate of spam. But still, it retained an element of entertainment value.

Consider this a plea to the vestigial organ contained within your dense skull, Mr. Spamfuck. You've made your point; you've shown you can get around the human verification thing. Now, please go find another site to victimize.

Or better yet, go see if you can stop a train with your face.

10 2

We hired on a person named James recently.

It only took about 3 hours before he was comfortable enough to begin making lewd and idiotic comments. Because he has a 'disability' (irritable bowel syndrome - when did that get to be a disability that kicks in legal protections? good god...) he will be virtually impossible to sack.

His first observation was that our oldest secretary "probably could throw a mean fuck, even at her age" (she's near 50).

Then on to some blather about an actor: "He's bald, and it's no secret that he actually wears a hairpiece made of some sort of wood."

Then some political person: "His daughter has infected half the men in Soho with chlamydia. It's a fact." Said he read it on a blog.

Started forwarding chain e-mails his first day. Seemed to forget he had already sent out the one with the giraffe that peers out at you under the caption 'Just checking on you.' Sends attachments of photos of Keeley Hazell to the men in the office.

On and on.....always suggesting we go have a pint, but he doesn't want to go to a pub, he wants to go to his mum's flat...actually said something like, 'She's a bit of a slapper, probably fucked a couple of my mates.'

The boss has discussed etiquette, appropriate behaviour, etc. with this idiot, to no avail. Those of us who've complained have been told that the 'disabilities act' prevents precipitate dismissal.

If this jackarse drove to work I'd gladly slash his tyres, but someone drops him off each morning (some sort of keeper, I believe) and someone else picks him up. I can get no work done without constant interruptions from him. He has unsettled the entire office in a very short time. We've discussed drawing straws to choose someone to pound him senseless in the toilet. The only relief we’ve had is when someone slipped him a chocolate flavoured laxative…of course, the pleasure was not complete, as we were treated to details about the ‘above normal amount of blood’ in his stools that day….

5 1

Babagrumbly is the moodiest scrotum it’s ever been my misfortune to meet. If anything is not to his liking, he will whinge about it with the same zeal and vigour as a barefoot lesbian marching on broken glass whilst preaching her hatred of anything more masculine than her.

He perpetuates defamatory rubbish about his workmates behind their backs, whilst criticising others who he suspects are doing the same to him (read this and weep).

He demands people to show him respect, while he stands there shouting and swearing with the office door wide open. What notion of respect are you displaying, you premenstrual pillock?

He expects people to be considerate towards him, while he disregards them and their interests completely. He sometimes parks his car across two spaces (I hate people who do that). He also had our microwave oven removed from the office (without consultation) and gave different reasons depending on who asked:

1) The microwave radiation could aggravate a brain tumour (he doesn’t have).

2) The odour of cooking food is causing his clothes to smell and thus increasing his dry cleaning bill.

He thinks he owns a monopoly on sensitivity, whilst showing none towards anybody else. In a recent outburst, I was accused of continuously breaking wind for the last three years, which culminated with him fleeing the room in a huff and reporting me to the head of department. I had the rather bizarre task of discussing my ‘offence’ with her, and attempted to ‘clear the air’ and convince her that my backside is not as rotten as Babagrumbly claims.

Having a chip on his shoulder the size of Noah’s ark, he is a hypocritical and psychotically unstable idiot, whose command of the English language is limited to impertinently screaming “you is a racialist” with the ferocity and scorn of an addict denied his substance. He then stereotypes people and whines about how appalling Britain is. He has threatened to go and live in Paris with his mother. I might help him pack!

6 4

Gormless faced poltroon.

Can anyone else mistake white wine wine for cider?

Fucknut.

£30K in debt and claiming housing benefit because of the sad need to fill your hollowness the aid of a credit card or eleven?

Buy Barbour's entire catalogue? How many flat caps do you need at £40 a pop? Jackets at £160 each? Yes, you'll have four of those, won't you?

But you won't waste money on soap, will you?

Why buy one super expensive racing bike when you can buy three along with an exotic Italian carbon fiber frame which you never use as it's your 'Rolls Royce' (?)

Keep 'em in your horrible little room along with your malfunctioning laptop because in spite of countless hours on tech support, YOU WILL NOT BE TOLD. EVER.

What's personal space all about, you scary fucking deviant ? Ask all the female staff in the office. They will tell you. Repeatedly.

Or more accurately, they'll ask me to remind you. So I can experience your trademark clueless bemusement, yet again.



Gah.

Going to Southend on a Saturday by train, again, to eat fish & chips and to stare at the deep blue sea? It's only a short walk to the chilly depths and release from this confusing life and the puzzling humans that surround you...

Aaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhhh...

Smooth fucking jazz.

Talk at length, yet again how fantastic the 60's were, you fucking mentalist and how you loved watching the wrestling with Kendo Nagasaki.

CUNTCUNTCUNTCUNTCUNTCUNTCUNTCUNTCUNTCUNT

Complain again & again that the sandwich shop you went to had too many choices for you, when all you wanted was a cheese sandwich...

...that the fish & chip shop accidentally splashed vinegar on your fish...

...that the Big Issue seller had the effrontery to stand in Euston Station as you walked past...

STOP SHARING ALL THIS VACUOUS POINTLESS DEMORALISING SHIT WITH US

WHAT IS YOUR REAL. FUCKING. NAME??

Is it Alan?

It's not Lofty....

You socially inept scumpouch.

5 2

How to write a post that others will vote and, perhaps, comment upon:

Do not write the post as if it were addressed to the Object of Your Loathing. You must construct it as a narrative directed to the wider audience: me, the other three visitors to the site, and that little guy over there with the poorly healed harelip repair.

Give examples of the type of behaviour that merits your scorn. Physical shortcomings are not behaviours. Trust me, if we were required to post photos of ourselves few of us would be cravenly hypocritical enough to condemn the oddities of others' appearances. For instance, you there, what's up with that cluster of enlarged pores either side of your nose? Stashing oil against the day the OPEC boys get serious and cut us off? So, please demonstrate the types of utterances or actions of your vile colleague that will permit us to empathise and join you in your condemnation. Otherwise, you risk being the object of our scorn.

Remember to sign your posts with your /real/ name. None of those pseudonyms, please. We actually know who you are, so this is a test of your honesty.

Have at it, boys and girls. Let us know why the scurvy lot who make your worklife hell deserve our vilification and you our sympathy.

6 1

Ian, you fucking disgusting cunt;

Wash your hands when you've had a shit.

What kind of filthy disgusting subhuman bastard wipes their arse then just wanders off to have a sandwich? You dirty repulsive neandethal wanker.

Why do you stop there, Ian? Why don't you drag huge clumps of your own filth down the office walls when people come in for job interviews? Why don't you sit hunched in the corner, chewing huge mouthfuls of your own stinking shit when the boss comes in? Go on, Ian, do that. You know you'd fucking love it.

3

This site was my colleague for more than a year. I will miss it, but, like any other suckarse colleague, in the end it failed me. Goodbye old site. Goodbye Rasta Mon....goodbye S&putelli poster...goodbye fake-Carl poster...goodbye Spambot....goodbye Vi*agra and C*ialis poster...

6 1

Will that shitter who did the last twelve postst or so bloody well stop it? Honestly, mate. leave us for a bit. Your offerings aren't clever or funny.

They're more among the lines of contrived and shitty. They're not even shit or, God forbid, shite, but just sort of, you know, shitty. Oh dear, that's already far too much time and effort wasted on you, turgid shitty turd that you are. Ah well, 's better than actually working.

1 2

Snesdon, you clatter around the office like some sort of metallic pig robot, primarily because that's exactly what you are.

Since the boss became mentally ill he's replaced about 25% of the staff with metallic pig robots but Snesdon is clearly the worst.

Snesdon is a bit rusty.

4 2

Tinterton isn't a human being, just a big block of bronze with a scowl roughly daubed on in blue chalk and spit.

Tinterton earns three hundred thousand pounds per year and has FOUR wives.

Grrr! I don't like Tinterton!

4 2

Tobin has a series of chitinous spines growing out of his face and hands. He uses them to ensnare fictional beings like elves and sprites, then puts them in a big iron pot and forgets about them for a bit.

When he goes back to the pot they've usually evolved into slightly different stuff.

What a desperately annoying clunge!

3 1

Muldrew Fefkins is the third worst tailor on this entire fucking ship and he leaves his scissors where the flies can get at them.

Sometimes he wears aprons with garish patterns and sometimes he threatens to kill others with hooks and suchlike.

Once he left his hair in a dent just so that no one else could sit down in the dent.

What an inexpressibly ghastly piss of a man!

4 2

Gail, you horrible harlot. You were an alkie bitch before your antics with your lunch, but now you're an alkie superbitch. Why the fuck can't I get you sacked for accidentally covering me in apple juice?

You got it all over my clothes. They were bloody nice clothes, you fucking cakefeast slut.

1 4

These bitch was nothing more than a minor annoyance until recently. She's acquired a habit of using the word "mong". This would be fine if she ever used it in a funny way, but believe me, she fucking doesn't. Kebab-bellied whore.

2 3

C. Knox's annoying features are absolutely countless. His fuckwitted and clearly untrue statements about "goffs", his constant impish grin, his tendency to shamelessly insult EVERYONE, his penchant for theft......

The list goes on.

Anyway, the gist is he's a motherfucking cunt.

1 3

Clendrew, you are slightly flattened at the side and speak in a manner with which I am unfamiliar.

When you bring your bric-a-brac you leave it in the wrong place and, even when you leave it in the right place, it still somehow tends to end up in the wrong place.

Also, there was a fire drill once and you responded in a manner I considered inappropriate.

For these reasons and others I feel compelled to push a knife in you for a while.

1 11

There are now well over 100 names in the Hall of I Hate You. Of those, perhaps a dozen are funny stories. Of the 100, perhaps a dozen have comments which are funny. See? No humor in hatred; no longevity in hatred as a theme. Over on lifelong.satisfaction there are over 1,000 names, and the tributes are inspiringly hilarious.

So, there you go, remaining vestiges of the corps of haters: you fought uphill; you tired and lost.

Now, let's love each other, shall we?

3 3

Pissing heck, Flimley. You've only gone and smashed four hundred and fifteen sledges to bits AGAIN.

We know you've got cancer of the wrists and all that but you're really going to have to control your urges or we're all doomed!

We needed those sledges as part of some obscure "corporate strategy, going forwards" - some cunt in a suit told me.

So try and control your sledge-urges, yeah? We know you're worried about having to have your wrists amputated but it's no excuse for demolishing all those lovely toboggans in such a freakishly sexual manner. You get me?

18 3

Delicious Pam, you slump in your little booth next to the gantry like an umpa lumpa in some sort of shit greenhouse, yet still I love you.

Tits to the stupid gantry, it can look after itself. Come with me and we'll float off into the sunset in my inflatable van.