It's been a cunt of a year hasn't it? Tories back in power, massive cuts to vital public services, students rioting on the streets of London. And next year's shaping up to be a right cunt too what with the impending purge of the country's poorest people from social housing, massive public sector redundancies, draconian limits on much needed economic migrants from outside the EU, VAT rising to 20% and inflation going absolutely mental.
It really is all a bit of a cunt isn't it?
Now, I know what many of you out there will be thinking. You'll be thinking "that David Cameron has a lot to answer for. That plum-tonsilled, cock sucking, fox hunting, play-doh faced inbred cunt - he's responsible for all this. He's forcing open the bum cheeks of this great nation and reaming its arsehole with a croquet mallet. String him up. Cut his testicles off and shove them, quivering, into his wet-lipped mouth."
But I say to you, no! Cameron is not to blame. If you must blame anyone, blame me. If you must call someone a cunt, call me a cunt. After all, without me none of this would have been possible.
The day I walked out of 10 Downing Street shaking hands with my dear friend the prime minister, was the day I took millions of trusting votes and literally wiped my arse with them.
That's right, Lib Dem voters (whether you are long term partisans or simply had enough of Labour - and let's face it who wouldn't have with their record employment figures, lowest ever NHS waiting times and brilliant revamp of our schools) every ballot paper you ticked and put in that little box, I used it to wipe my faeces-splattered shitbox and then flushed it down the toilet. It was a long night and my anus became sore and chafed. At one point I looked over to my trusted colleague Vince Cable and noticed that his arse needed wiping too, so I handed him a wad of voting papers which he eagerly soiled. As he did so he smiled and said something noble but the gist of what he was saying was lost as everybody was too distracted by his symbolic act of defecation.
Whilst I agree that David Cameron has put this country on a course of destruction, social breakdown and unprecedented inequality over the next five years, we have to bear in mind that he's a tory. What do you expect? It's in his blood. I can assure you he's really a thoroughly nice chap. (He even likes The Smiths. Kudos Dave).
But I was supposed to be the one you trusted. I was meant to be a watershed moment in the history of British politics; a politician proudly standing up for his principles, disrupting the two party power monopoly and reforming the electoral system forever. I even had the fucking Guardian spunking over me like I was the new fucking Messiah!
Well, that's all gone to shit hasn't it?
You all deserve an apology and I wish I was able to give it to you. But at the end of the day, when I look in the mirror and see my own slightly embarrassed, nondescript face looking back at me I think "Clegg, you old cunt, whatever glaring, deceitful, cowardly mistakes you've made this year, you have at least acheived one notable success - you've got the Liberals back into power for the first time in decades. Sort of."
Oh who am I kidding? The truth is I hate myself. Every night, once all the politicking and debating is done and another section of the British populace has been shafted in the House of Commons, I go upstairs to bed and I take out the selected papers of Gladstone, Asquith and David Lloyd George and I have a little wank over them. And then I cry long and hard into the night.
People of Britain, I say this to you. I am a cunt of epic and legendary proportions. It's not going to be easy reconciling my conscience with all that I've done. To be honest, one of these days I'll probably kill myself.
In the shopping malls, on the radio, on VH fucking 1, you just can't avoid Christmas tunes. Some of them are brilliant. Some are cunt-ridden. Here's UNCUNT's selection of the best (and by "best" I mean absolute fucking worst)
Cliff Richard - The Millenium Prayer
Listen Cliff, if that is your real name (it’s not), why don’t you take your God, your daily bread, your 260m records sold worldwide and shove them up your leathery, fake-tanned, puckered, born again arsehole. You’ve shat on the beauty that is Auld Lang Syne and you’ve forced your God shit down people’s necks once too often. This single, quite incredibly, went to number one. Who the fuck went out and bought this? Oh, Christians. (And not the band The Christians with that bald chap, I mean actual Christians….you know, Catholics, Protestants, Baptists, all that shit…..yes they do still exist.) Well thanks Christians for ruining Christmas and for ruining pop music forever. If Jesus had an iPod he would definitely skip this track every single fucking time.
*Cliff's real name is in fact Harry
David Bowie & Bing Crosby - Little Drummer Boy
Having tired of entering Berlin, coked out of his walnut and sieg heiling like a good ‘un, David Bowie decided to devote the rest of his music and ‘acting’ career to being a cunt. There was that one exception, Labyrinth, but even then many people see that as a bit cuntish in its own right. Here, he teamed up with Bing Crosby; famous for the racist yuletide classic White Christmas. What’s so wrong about this is not the shit-yourself-cringeworthy banter or Bowie’s hideous south London twang, it’s not even his shite 80s haircut. It’s the fact that this song was never, EVER intended for the pop charts. This is what you sing in school assembly when you’re 6 years old (and even then it’s crap). What in shitting crikey were these cunts thinking?
Madonna - Santa Baby
Did she really need to do this? Did she? Did she really? Really?
New Kids On The Block - Funky, Funky Christmas
I’m going to warn you. Watching this video could be damaging to your mental health. It has literally nothing to do with the actual concept of Christmas and everything to do with cashing in on fleeting, superficial chart success. I’ll admit, I liked NKOTB. When I was 9. I also liked Bros. But Bros never tried to act like street-wise tough guys, with baseball caps on back to front did they? They were a decent, honest boy band. Not like this shower of cunts.
Smashing Pumpkins - Christmastime
After producing one of the 90s finest rock albums Siamese Dream, Billy Corgan made the conscious decision to become a weird skinhead vampire. He went in to talk to his PR agent and his record label and told them grunge was over and the kids of the future would much rather listen to a whining, self-pitying, angst-ridden, goth twat wearing leather trousers. In many ways he was correct. In many ways Billy Corgan invented Emo. And for that alone, his career will always be remembered as a shit-stained aberration. What his PR guys, and the rest of the world, weren’t expecting was a Christmas single. Surely it went against his moody image? I mean, Metallica never recorded a Christmas single did they? Slipknot never recorded a single with Ol’ Dirty Bastard on lead vocals did they?
No they didn't. Although a part of me really, really wishes that they had.
I'll be brutally honest (as always), I'm not sure whether to praise James Naughtie or cunt him off.
Why, you ask? Surely he should be the unoffical media spokesperson for this entire blog?
Well, the truth is I'm a bit annoyed. I've had this issue of UNCUNT prepared for weeks (if not months), saving it up for the right moment. If I'd written it last week I'd have looked like a prescient genius. Now, after his brilliant Today programme gaffe, I just look a plagiarising, opportunistic cunt.
But fair play to the cunt, he's probably been reading too much UNCUNT. He probably had the last issue up on his laptop at the very moment he was making his instantly classic Freudian slip about culture secretary Jeremy Hunt.
Naughtie's slip of the tongue had an important function in bringing the 'c' word back under the microscope of popular culture and mainstream media; a place where it should be. It re-opened a debate about the (un)acceptability of the word, its etymology as one of the oldest anglo saxon terms, the argument over whether or not it is mysogynistic and the enduring funniness of the word with its simple-yet-effective pronunciation.
The humour behind the word is why I write UNCUNT. It's simply a funnier expletive than wanker, tosser, dickhead or anything else. I have, of course, had to deal with the suggestion that the word contains historically sexist conotations. Well, we live in a post-feminist world and while I (the product of a feminist mother and a hippyish upbringing) found the word unsayable for much of my youth, as a progressive adult I find the idea of not saying 'cunt' because it might be offensive to women a far more sexist and regressive concept than using it freely and liberally.
I do not, however, condone its use to describe a woman. The traditionalist in me feels it is a word that should only be applied to males. You will note there haven't been any UNCUNT issues devoted to any female figures in film and music. Is that perhaps sexist of me in itself? Should I not call everybody a cunt regardless of gender? I suppose I probably should but I still retain an element of what Hadley Freeman described to me as "squeamishness" about the word. This blog in some ways is a form of therapeutic workout for my literary psyche.
I actually began to use the word freely and liberally only after hearing several women I know using it. One being my sister, another being a close friend who loved watching late night episodes of Prisoner Cell Block H and abusing the eponymous (all-female) prisoners. More recently, a female colleague at work, apropos of nothing, described Alexa Chung as a cunt. She said it in her northern accent (which alters the word to something perhaps more aggressive) and it was simultaneously shocking and hilarious. Now, in all fairness, Alexa Chung is a cunt, everybody thinks that. But the feminist part of me thinks that it's ok for a woman to call her a cunt but unacceptable for a man to do like wise. Weird huh?
The word is of course simply slang for the vagina and in that sense no different to its genitally offensive relations 'cock', 'pussy' and 'twat'. But there is something in its short, sharp shocking enunciation that elevates it to a higher plane.
While the word has had many airings in the film world - horrendously in Nil By Mouth, disturbingly in Taxi Driver, scarily in Sexy Beast - it has been far less used in the annals of music.
This issue is a dedication to those heroes of music who have uttered the immortal word on tape.
Banned by Radio One, most bands would have viewed this release, their first ever single, as commercial suicide. For the Libertines it cemented their reputation as serious, subversive, hedonistic, intellectual heroes of the UK underclass.
Alongside references to the bible, the Beano and James Joyce's Ulysees this sexual ode to a coke-addled waster girl contains the most glorious swearing ever put on record. Never have the words "what a divvy, what a fucking div, walking like a moron, talking like a spiv" sounded so poetic. But what really nails it of course is the majestic use of the 'c' word. "the city's hard, the city's fair. get back inside, you've got nothing on. No, mind your bleedin' own you two-bob cunt." The working class Victorianisms radicalised a whole new breed of young English pop stars of the future and I, for one, am eternally grateful to Messrs Doherty and Barat.
S*M*A*S*H - Lady Love Your CuntWho remembers the New Wave Of New Wave? (Or NWONW as the NME cleverly titled it). For those of you too young (or too old), it was a very brief musical movement in 1993 that acted almost as an unintentional segue between grunge and britpop. Many say it was the forerunner to britpop and they definitely have a point. Bands that fell into this category, as well as punk rockers S*M*A*S*H, were punk rockers Compulsion, glam-mod, eyeliner-wearing speed freaks These Animal Men and the indie Morrissey-endorsed Smiths-soundalike Echobelly. I loved all of these bands. Very briefly. Sonya Aurora-Madan was a bona fide role model for non-white indie kids; a British Asian woman wearing a Union Jack t-shirt. A decade after their demise I spotted guitarist Debbie working in the Notting Hill Record and Tape Exchange - how the mighty fall.
Not only did S*M*A*S*H accompany Oasis on their first US tour, they also released a mini-album, a full-length album and this non-album single.
Named after Germaine Greer's essay, this pro-feminist attempt unfortunately did not go down too well with the indie chicks of the day (the indie chicks of the day being largely affiliated with the contemporaneous Riot Grrrl movement). Upon its release I recall letters in Melody Maker from women saying (and I am paraphrasing here) "fuck off S*M*A*S*H, who the fuck do you think you are? Have you got cunts? No, we have and we'll fucking decide if we wanna love them or fucking hate them. You cunts." It was classic.
It's also worth pointing out that S*M*A*S*H were from Welwyn Garden City. Is there any town in existence that is less rock'n'roll? (It's a rhetorical question.)
Kurt Cobain's answerphone messages to Victoria Clarke and Lynn HershbergIn 1992 Kurt Cobain was becoming seriously fucked up. Now married to Courtney Love and with a new born baby Frances Bean, his fame and lifestyle were becoming all a bit too much.
Out of his gourd on smack he took exception to music journalists Clarke and Hershberg (the former being the long term partner of Pogue Shane MacGowan) and an article they wrote about how Love had smoked heroin while pregnant.
He rang up Clarke but instead got her answerphone. Not dissuaded, Cobain proceeded to leave a rambling abusive message (in two or three parts - answerphones were actual tapes back then remember). At one point he described the duo as "insane cunts", which at the time, for a grunger and a devout champion of women's rights like Cobain, was big news. Select magazine received the tape and published a transcription (which I read as a transfixed 12 year old).
Listen to part of his message here. It's quite funny. In a disturbing way.
Steve Coogan - Everyone's A Bit Of A Cunt Sometimes Steve Coogan is widely regarded as a bit of a cunt. Despite his ample talent and comedic genius for character acting, Coogan himself has never been taken to the public's heart has he?
Peter Hook once described him as "the biggest cunt ever to come out of Manchester". Nobody knows exactly why but it was probably because Coogan tried to bang Caroline Aherne. It makes sense doesn't it? Aherne hosted the Mrs Merton Show. Coogan appeared on the Mrs Merton Show. Hooky played on the Mrs Merton Show. Coogan must have groped her or suggested a quicky in a seedy hotel. Hooky took exception and labelled him a cunt. That's my theory and I'm sticking to it.
Underneath the "coke and strippers" headlines, the messy divorces, the arrogance, the alcoholism and the relocation to Los Angeles (where the very concept of being a cunt began) there has to be a lovable chap somewhere inside him. No?
Well at least he's able to laugh at himself. The 2009 stand-up tour, according to people I know who saw it, was utterly shite. But the closing song is quite good. I particularly like "I've had a life of plenty, does that make me a c-u-n-t?".
Have a listen. If you still think he's a cunt afterwards well, I can't really blame you.
The Auteurs - The Upper Classes And so to my final, and favourite, use of the 'c' word in the annals of rock music. Luke Haines has never been one to mince his words. In his autobiography Bad Vibes he cunts off everybody from The The's Matt Johnson to Pulp's Jarvis Cocker. Saving a special, persistent, spiteful-yet-affectionate cunt-off for Lawrence Hayward - brainchild of the shit 80s/90s bands Felt and Denim.
That's the kind of man Haines is. The more he likes someone, the more inclined he is to call them a cunt. That's why I respect him.
On The Auteurs second album Now I'm A Cowboy, which I regard as their masterpiece, Haines sings about everything from Chinese bakeries to new French girlfriends. Every little Britpop gem on this album has an epic quality and contains an undertone of respectful homage mixed with a snidey cunt-off. He'd hate me calling it Britpop, but it is. It's more Britpop than Suede or even Blur. It's want Britpop was meant to sound like before the likes of Ash and Menswear came along, ballsing it all up.
On The Upper Classes, Haines does not hold back. It is one of the great underappreciated lyrics of our time. Slowly, creepingly, but surely he takes sarcastic aim at the aristocracy and their trust funds, inherited wealth and houses behind trees. Halfway through this protracted, bitter put down in which our protagonist steals clothes from an upper class lover then feels ashamed at being in cahoots with the landed gentry, Haines quite bizarrely refers to an unnamed person with the words "that cunt's really got it sussed. Selling wine, selling drugs. You can get so far with a perishing wit, but the money's in trust, isn't it?"
I'm still unsure what or who he is referring to but nevertheless it's one of those rare moments when pop lyricism transcends the mundane, makes you actually laugh out loud and the way he offers it up so off-the-cuff, almost as an afterthought gets you reaching for the rewind button just to make sure you heard it right.
I salute the genius of Mr Haines - the most underrated songwriter ever and a proper cunt to boot.
There are too many cunts in the music and film industries. With a distinct lack of a critical voice in the contemporary press, these cunts go about making records, shooting films and syphoning off the public's money unchecked - almost as if being a cunt is something to be rewarded.
I aim to expose cunt bands and film stars and encourage an open debate on the validity of their existence. If you would like to suggest some key cunts or indeed defend some of the people I've cunted off, please leave a comment or email uncunnt@gmail.com.
Together, let's uncunt the entertainment business.
Hi everybody, Nick Clegg here.
