Rust In Peace, The Cunto

Sad news brethren... and old news too... but an occasion like this cannot pass without a moment of solemn reflection.

The chariot of dreams and vulgarity we called The Cunto is no more. Gone to the big junkyard in the sky. Written off. It's FUCKING DEAD.




The bereaved owner R. Spice, or Ragin' S. if you will, plans to hold a wake in honour of the little guy in a week or two's time in her new digs. Everyone will be asked to share a memory.

My favourite Cunto memory occured one Autumn's day... whilst out for a drive, we noticed a Garda car behind us. Lo and behold all three occupants of the car, all on-duty members of the force, we taking pictures of the Cunto on their camera phones, which they could barely even hold they were laughing so hard. As we made a turn and the Gards overtook us, they saluted the Cunto in the only way they knew how.... "BEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" and threw him a friendly wave.

That was our Cunto, breaking down barriers, putting parents in awkward positions infront of their kids, and promoting foul-mouthedness all throughout Ireland.