Radio Cunt FM

By UNCUNT staff

The other morning I was woken up by the harrowing sound of Chris Moyles on BBC Radio Cunt FM. ‘Fat Cunt’ Moyles as I like to call him.

Fat cunt Moyles and his little team of helpers are wittering on about something ‘hilarious’ and ‘random’ that’s keeping them all considerably ‘amused’. Though I get the general impression that the producer could walk into the studio with the sad news that Comedy Dave’s grandmother had passed away in the night and they’d still be amused. Moyles would probably describe it as ‘totally random’ and they’d all break out into giggles. Including Comedy Dave. Whoever the fuck he is. To be honest I’m not even sure if he still works on the Chris Moyles Breakfast Show. But if he does then he’s a cunt.

“How can you listen to this every morning?” I ask my girlfriend, gobsmacked. “He’s funny” she replies. “No,” I say “he’s a fat cunt”. “Well he must be good at his job, he’s been doing it for 15 years” she says. Which is a fair point I suppose. But then, when you think about it, Adolf Hitler did his job for 15 years too didn’t he? Quite competently as it happens. So did Goebbels. And Himmler. And all the other Nazis. Including that fat cunt Hermann Goering. Who’s probably the Nazi who most closely resembles Chris Moyles isn’t he? Physically speaking.

So I’m ‘listening’ to the show and eating cornflakes (another thing my girlfriend has got me doing). I say ‘listening’ to the show, but actually it’s more like having a surgical lobotomy without anaesthetic, performed by a doctor who informs you during the pre-op that he fully intends to shit in the cranial cavity where your brains once were before he removed them.

I’m enduring these halfwits and trying desperately to block it out with semi-lucid thoughts about the day ahead and my forthcoming holiday. Things like that. Normal, mundane thoughts. But these normal, mundane thoughts are repeatedly blocked out by the even more normal, even more mundane thoughts being vocalised on national radio by this bunch of feckless cuntstables. (I got that one off The Shadowline. Not sure if it works in this context but hey….)

Tina, one of the crew, has made up a pop quiz and a jingle to go with it. It’s about Glastonbury. It’s called ‘Tina’s Glastonbury Tunes’. Tina has pre-recorded some tunes that will be performed that weekend at Glastonbury and Moyles and the other braindead prick have to guess what these tunes are. It’s as simple as that.
“Shall we hear the jingle again?” enthuses Moyles in his mock racist Leeds taxi driver drawl. The lyrics to the jingle consist of three words repeated loudly, ad nauseum: “Tina’s Glastonbury tunes”.

Yes, Chris. Let’s hear it again and again and again. (Said jingle ends up being stuck in my head all day. I can even hear it now. The fucking cunts.)

Just as I’m beginning to seriously wonder whether the producer has been replaced that morning by his 8 year old child who’s brought in a scrapbook of his ideas that he wrote down for his school homework last night, the torture is interrupted by Moyles playing a record.
I say a ‘record’, it’s more like having a surgical lobotomy without anaesthetic, performed by a doctor who informs you during the pre-op that he fully intends to shit in the cranial cavity where your brains once were before he removed them.

Then my girlfriend switches off the radio and we leave the house, her smiling and happy, me twitching and traumatised like a gibbering nervous wreck.

And to think Moyles, the fat illiterate cunt, demanded a pay rise of £1m per year for this shit. And then threw a strop when he was told he was only worth half a million a year. If I’d been Andy Parfitt, the controller of Radio Cunt FM, I’d have castrated the cunt, sacked him on the spot, gone round to his house, burgled all of his expensively acquired tat to sell later on eBay, burnt his house down, tattooed ‘I AM A FAT CUNT’ across his gormless fucking face and had him deported to the Faroe Islands to present a daily breakfast show to the meagre indigenous population of the Arctic Circle. In Swedish.

Radio Cunt FM likes rundowns. So here’s a rundown of the top 3 biggest cunts ever to have presented on 97-99FM BBC Radio Cunt. It’s a bit like the Top 40. But better…..

1. Bruno Brookes

Remember Beat The Teacher on Children’s BBC? Well the cunt that brought you that also battered his girlfriend (Anthea Turner), wore a mullet and cunted up the airwaves daily for 9 years from 1986-1995.

Those are years of my life I’ll never get back.....



2. Jo Whiley

[I take no credit for this description, my mate Chris texted it to me during the BBC coverage of Glasto the other week.......]

“Jo Whiley’s a fucking idiot. I mean Zane’s a daft kiwi cunt but I think that his enthusiasm is reasonably genuine, whereas Whiley just spews faint praise on EVERTYTHING. She would have you believe that she likes all music in the world. There is no music that she doesn’t like. David Gray could walk on stage and rape a seagull to death and then take a dump on its dead, rotting carcass and she’d say something like “that was lovely stuff from David Gray there”.

3. Zane Lowe

A “daft kiwi cunt” without a shred of musical taste or human decency. Indiscriminately bigs up anything from the Klaxons to Lady Gaga to Biffy Clyro to Goldie Lookin’ Chain; praising them like they’re The Beatles in the immediate aftermath of having recorded The White Album. Zane Lowe would literally place his open mouth at the bottom of a funnel while Chris Martin of Coldplay lowered his gaping anus over the top and proceeded to shit dysentery down it - a bout of dysentery contracted whilst staying at a Buddhist yoga retreat in the Himalayas. Lowe would drink it all down then look directly into camera and say “WOW! Words cannot describe how excited I am about this new Coldplay material.”

He’s a cunt of unimaginable, almost indescribable levels and I hate him more than any other celebrity figure in the entire history of the world ever.