Can I be your fucking wanker cunt?

July 10, 2012 § 18 Comments

It’s hard to come back from a pleasant vacation in Palm Springs after enjoying the 116-degree daytime temperatures only to find that I’ve been out-vulgared, and by a tweezly Brit bicycle rider, at that. As a kindergartner at Galveston’s Booker T. Washington Elementary School (since razed), I learned early the proper pronunciation and application of profanity. If you could have seen how proud I was when I finally mastered the high-speed phrase “cocksuckinmotherfuckinblueballedbitch,” you would have thought I was the cutest little six year-old you’d ever seen.

Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t rested on my laurels. I’ve worked hard and diligently these past decades to never slack off on nastyisms, crudification, and profanizing in every possible way. Need someone to say something foul and detestable in the presence of ladies? I’m your guy! Looking for an uncouth spewer of obscenity in a formal setting? Call me! Casting about for a dude who can overtrash the gutteriest filthmouth? That’s me. It’s always been me.

Until I happened to go off to Palm Springs for a vacation I didn’t even need only to find that the leader of the Turdy had given an interview laced with uglyisms and profanity of the worst sort.

The word “wanker”? I thought I fucking OWNED it.

The whole idea behind Brad Wiggins in this year’s Turdy France was that he would re-establish order in the peloton and earn back the loyal flock that had wandered a bit since Drugstrong’s heyday. He’d do drugs, but not enough to detect. He’d beat the snot out of everyone, but wouldn’t Simeoni-ize them. He’d get a stacked train of doped up stars to control the peloton, but wouldn’t let the 300-lb. sprunter dude win an Alpine stage.

We’d ignore that he’d never, ever shown himself to be a Turdy contender. We’d ignore that he trained in secret, in a place where the testers couldn’t arrive unannounced. We’d ignore that he was chalking it all up to hard work (“I’m on my bike. What are YOU on?”, etc.) Most of all, we’d let the bigtime fanboys like Bill Strickland, Joe Lindsey, and the other pitchers of softpoop get their pabulum machines cranked up so the “industry” could get back to what it does best: selling shit to fat people that they’ll mostly never use.

The whole idea, however, was NOT that Wiggo, or Wig Out, or Earwig, or Wiggster, would appropriate MY favorite pejorative and then make it even more awesome.

In case you hadn’t noticed, the word “wanker” was mine. It wasn’t yours. It wasn’t hers. It wasn’t theirs. And it sure as hell wasn’t Bradley Wiggins’s. Do a Google search for “wankmeister” and your hard drive will go limp with hits, so to speak.

Doesn’t matter now, though. No matter how hard I blog, and tweet, and holler in the future, Wiggy will forever own “fucking wanker” because he paired it with “cunt.” Put ‘em together and you get “fucking wanker cunt,” which is just about the most awesome vulgarism ever, bigger than spermface, even, or clithead. It’s that big.

Going big, then going home

The power in a true obscenity is only released when it boggles the mind. As a child, I still remember the first time I heard “cocksuckingmotherfuckingblueballedbitch.” I was six. It was my first day in kindergarten at Booker T. Some kids were talking trash. My brain ground to a halt. “Cocksucking,” I thought. “Is that what I think it is?” Then I listened in amazement as they repeated it. “Motherfucking? Is that what it sounds like?”

A stunning concatenation of images that weren’t even images filled my head as everything went blank. Then, dimly, “Blueballed” rambled in through the haze. “Blue balls? What are those? Mine are white.” I realized that it might mean someone had whacked you so hard in the nuts that they turned blue, like getting a charley-horse. “Wow, that’s gotta hurt.” And then, finally, like a gentle ending at the coda of a great violin concerto, “bitch.” Such an ordinary word…except that everyone knows bitches are girls, and girls don’t have balls, so this is a bitch with blue balls!

That moment when your mind smashes against a powerful obscenity, something truly fitted to make your brain twist and writhe and grapple, that’s the moment you know you’ve hit pay dirt, and that’s what happened the second Wiggsy unleashed “fucking wanker cunt.”

Imagine! “Wanker,” an ordinary enough piece of slang that makes you think of some chubby dude with a hairy navel locking himself into a public restroom stall, combined with “cunt,” a somewhat rough word that, however, can be made slightly less so by adding a “-y” on the end, as in, “Can I have a scoop of chocolate, a scoop of cunty, and some sprinkles mixed in?” tied together with the ordinary enough “fucking” so that it all seems to hang together until…wait!!! Wanker is a man! Cunt is a woman! A woman wanking! A man cunting! Tied together with fucking!

“BRAIN LOSING POWER! GIVE ME MORE POWER MR. SCOTT!”

“I CAN’T CAP’N, SHE’S GIVING ALL SHE’S GOT, IF I ASK FOR MORE SHE’LL BLOW!”

“MORE POWER, MR. SCOTT! THAT’S AN ORDER!”

“SHE CAN’T TAKE ANY MORE, CAP’N! SHE CAN’T!”

And there I’d still be, stalled in permanent brainlock with Mr. Sulu, Lieutenant Uhura, Mr. Spock, and Captain Kirk on the profanity bridge, if my phone hadn’t rung and knocked me out of the infinite obscenity loop.

What this means for the Tour

In addition to p*wning the snot out of Cuddle Evans in the time trail, Wiggsy took the time to explain that he “can’t be doing with” us fucking wanker cunts  because it “justifies their own bone idleness.” Now hold on just one danged minute! Did he really say that he can’t “do” us fucking wanker cunts because of our bone idleness?

If I thought Wiggly taking ownership of “fucking wanker cunt” was astounding, the minute he accused us Twitterers of bone idleness, well, that just ended the discussion. Me? Having an idle bone? If he’d send me his mobile number I’d show him “idle.” Idle like a warren of rabbits, pal.

This dude just went from bottom of the poopstack to the top of the heap in my book. He wants to be big dog of nasty language? Take it away, Bradley. This is a chapter in Turdy France history that you will truly get to write on your own. The rest of us will be trailing, helplessly but awed, in your wake. The Tour de Curse is yours by a mile.

And it couldn’t happen to a bigger wanker.

Tagged: , ,

§ 18 Responses to Can I be your fucking wanker cunt?

  • billywayne says:

    Hahahaha! Clever …

  • off-roadie says:

    Don’t worry, it short order he will be found guilty of profanity doping by some bunch of wankers that claim to be the leading authority on doping prevention. Then, the piss-yellow jersey will be given to you!

    Also, “warren of rabbits”. Nice.

    • Wankmeister says:

      I knew he was profanity doping. I would have out-profaned him if he hadn’t been on that stuff. There’s no way a person can maintain that level of profanity over 21 days without drugs. The Tour de Curse is just too hard. They’ve always profanity doped, Christ, has everyone forgotten when Hinault called Paris-Roubaix a “pile of shit”? It’s time we got back to clean profanity, where obscenity is judged on actual exposure to nastiness, not due to some doc with a needle.

  • HWY. 39 says:

    How is Wig Out any different from Drugstrong? Neither one has failed a drug test and both have had teammates caught doping.

    Wig Out needs to realize he is part of a historically dirty sport and keep his dirty, salad-tossing mouth shut. Think about the children that could have heard and been irrevocably damaged by his tirade!

    • Wankmeister says:

      Wiggles is part of the new clean cycling, except for his dirty mouth. In the new clean cycling, all of the cheaters were back then, whereas all of the clean riders are now. It’s not that complicated. Here, let me make a little chart for my reader:

      Dopers: Then
      Clean riders: Now

      Got it? Good. Carry on!

  • loosewheels says:

    Fucking hilarious. You said a merde-load (pardon my French). I find myself increasingly addicted to your daily mouthful. Thanks for the laugh.

  • oh, my…
    “Can I have a scoop of chocolate, a scoop of CUNTY, and some sprinkles mixed in?”
    oh my DOG….hahaha…they are ALWAYS OUT, when i order this!!!!

  • SlowDJ says:

    Long live the Turdy F-raunch!

  • noflyzone allstars says:

    He must have read this – didn’t use “wanker” here:

  • Erik says:

    I just literally laughed to point of tears and then started chokIng. Can’t get enough of this blog, but this post is hands-down the most hilarious thing I’ve ever read. I went to tohican valley elementary, and we were easily a year behind the curriculum!

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