Chov's World Cup 2010 Daily Forehead Slap

It's a late start, but here is Chov's Daily roundup of the World Cup 2010.


There'll be a quick recap post to bring it up to date in the next day or so.


Day 10


Paraguay 2-0 Slovakia
Paraguay are the only team that can seriously threaten Argentina for the title of “Most 70s Hairstyles In One Squad”.


Watching Slovakia play is more boring (and possibly more pointless) than watching two thousand consecutive first quarters of NBA basketball.


Cheats FC 1-1 Sheep-Shaggers Utd
Didn’t watch it. As if I’m getting up at stupid o’clock to watch those fercuckwits from across the ditch play. SHOCKED to see they managed to jag a draw against Italy. COMPLETELY UNSHOCKED to further learn that the Italians MILKED AN UNDESERVED PENALTY. If there is any race in the ferkucken universe more filthy, dirty and cheating than the Italians then let’s only hope that they have been imprisoned by an advanced intelligence in a stronger sheet of glass than General Zod in Superman III.


Oh dear. Nope. I just checked and the Melbourne Scum are still running around the NRL.


This match also cements my prediction that Shane Smeltz is the “Karel Poborsky” of World Cup 2010. That is, will fluke a goal or something, jag a big-money move to a European club (hopefully NOT Man Utd this time…) and then revert to type and totally stink the joint up, returning to the A-League no later than 2012.


Brazil 3-1 Ivory Coast
Luis Fabiano, who is a fucking dirty cheat striker for Brazil, scored a goal in which he TWICE used his hand to control the ball and set up the shot that beat the keeper. My brother and I thoroughly checked our instruction manuals for both FIFA 10 and Pro Evo Soccer on the Xbox and PS3 and we couldn’t find any combination of controls that would produce this amazing trick manoeuvre, known as the “T.Henry” from now on.


Brazilian maestro Kaka was sent off in quite frankly ridiculous fashion. It can only be presumed that Keita was suddenly and quite violently SHOT IN THE FUCKEN FACE BY A SNIPER as he ran into Kaka. But for every pussy Brazilian who wants to whinge about it….watch this...





SO CRY ME A RIVER ASSHOLES.

Don't count your chickens, dipshits.

As a long suffering Parramatta Eels fan, I know all about the Curse of Brain Smith.

So I feel it's only fair to explain it to all the Chooks fans who are getting giddy and almost wetting themselves with premiership excitement after TWO ROUNDS.

Brain Smith appears to be a good coach.

He will improve your team by moulding it into a certain formula.

You will win many games.

You will get your hopes up.

And then the alien virus inside Brain will emerge and he will smash those hopes down down again just when they reach their pinnacle.

He will then follow this up by running players who are fan-favourites out of town year after year, and you will see these players return with other clubs to beat you until you resort to self-harm in a bid to counter the despair and frustration.

He will continually play stupid mind games (like never naming a starting side until about 25 seconds before kickoff) because he thinks it's clever. This has fooled Nick Politis already. Nobody else cares anymore.

And he will continue to keep picking a player like Matt "Sideshow Bob" Petersen OVER AND ABOVE JARRYD HAYNE.

Matt Petersen, displaying some of the electrifying skill and awareness that prompted Brain Smith to declare "With a lot of hard work and a miracle or two, Jarryd Hayne might become the new Matt Petersen, but Matt Petersen is the original real fucken deal. And he'll deliver the Eels a premiership for me no question.  Sorry I can't continue the interview I'm fucking CHOKING on something."

So if you thought it was bad finishing wooden-spooners last season you should consider the fact that at least that was seen coming a mile away and you didn't have to build up any hopes.

And you all realise that it's only a matter of time, don't you, before Turd Carney does it again?

You remember Turd - I told you all about him back here.
Just remember that the slimy little turd has done no rehab, no community service, no admission of guilt, no apologising - in short, NO CHANGING OF HIS WAYS.

In short, he's still a drunken tool with a fairy tattoo of stars just waiting to unleash his 'inner fuckwit'.

Turd Carney getting another local to sign up to sponsor him for his 2009 Drinkathon at 10 cents a UDL can. Turd eventually consumed 8,312 cans of bourbon and coke and donated the money raised to his local pub to show that he has "gone straight".

Sooner or later, Turd will see a head he just can't resist pissing on, or an arse he can't resist lighting on fire and pretty soon after that you'll be thinking Willie Mason was a fucken paragon.

Mark my words.

And if you doubt my soothsaying powers, let me remind you of this PRE-GLASSING gem from my 2008 NRL Sharks Preview "Special Fuckwit Watch": "...we all know it's only a matter of time before Greg "Knee, this is Head; Head, meet Knee" Bird does something f*ck-slappingly stupid."

You've been warned.

Bulldogs Announce New Club Award - The Ben Hannant Memorial Wimp of the Fucken Year Award

Ben Hannant, you fucken wimp, you piss me off.

At first it was just mid-level annoyance. Like a faint itch on my nuts during a work meeting when I'm unable to scratch it but am generally able to carry on trying to block it out. (And then get down for a scratchy-dig in the hallway as I leave, only to get busted by Sue the Walrus from Accounting, who seems to enjoy it...)

Being a Bulldog then elevated you to Chov's First Circle of Hate, up there with idiots who drive slow in the right lane, dipshits who take a trolley full of groceries into the express basket lane and Laurie Daley.

Then you got swine flu and I laughed, so that was alright. (See, I can be fair and balanced, just like Fox News).

Michael Ennis: "See, Ben, THIS is what's called the "Hoppa", named after Manly grub John Hopoate, where I take my thumb (or any digit, really) and I shove it right in your...HEY! Don't tense up, Benny! THIS is why we're called the "Family Club"!" Jamal Idriss: "Holy shit, that's up past the knuckle! He REALLY likes you Ben!"

Not satisfied with that, though, you decided to play the Fucking Wimp last year and totally send my rage-DNA into full apoplexy.

This was when you milked a fucken penalty against the Eels for a 'chicken-wing' tackle, crying like a bitch that your shoulder was 'dislocated'.

Chov was the only person on Earth who fucking well spotted you, just moments later, USING THAT SAME ARM/SHOULDER TO PUSH NATHAN HINDMARSH IN YOUR PATHETIC ATTEMPTS TO PROMPT A GIRLY PUSH FIGHT.

That's right, you fucken cat, your prissy little shoulder wasn't so hurt then was it? Was there fucken water from Lourdes in that trainer's bottle or fucken what!?

So that earned you your own entry in Chovpedia - the Book of Hate, you fucken albino shit-splat. (And thinking of footy wimps like you reminded me about Trent Barrett king-hitting the 4 foot 3 inch Eels hooker P.J Marsh FROM BEHIND, the weak fucken prat...)

But now you've even outdone yourself.

Now you want to move back to Queensland because you miss mummy and rainbows and the smell of fresh rose petals in the morning or some such crap. Sydney just too big and scary for you huh?

So is this why you moved from the Sydney Roosters back to Brisbane?

SO WHY, then, DID YOU MOVE BACK TO SYDNEY TO JOIN THE BULLDOGS!?!?!?!??!

See, at least Sonny Bill just fucked off in the middle of the night.

And now you've gone and made me look like I'm defending Sonny Bill Williams, so fuck you for that.

Ok, maybe you were taking geography lessons from Jamie "Judas" Lyons, who left the Eels to move to the "country", apparently believing Manly to be a fucken rural community of just a few hundred horse-turds, R.M.Williams-wearing pig-rooters and tractor repairers.

Well he was right about the pig-rooters, I guess.

Welcome to the stage...the Moan-ly Sea Eagles!

Rightio.

First morons up against the wall - the Manly Sea Eagles.

That's it...a nice family-friendly pic. Bit of a smile. Bit of a laugh. The sponsors will love this. And if they don't we'll call their daughters sluts and punch them out at our season launch.

Having an almighty sook of fucken Biblical proportions. (That is, the biggest sook since Jehousahuah had a sook about obstruction during the 12 A.D Babylon Cup.)

Grow a pair you fucken cry-babies.

Coach Des Hasler personally offered to pay for all the match officials to visit OPSM for eye-tests.

Here's a free Chov Tip for you, Des, you hairy-bonced peanut.

Spend the money on TACKLE BAGS FOR YOUR PLAYERS TO USE AT TRAINING. They might end up BEING MORE USEFUL IN THE LONG RUN.

The Eels scored a try from a forward pass.

They also scored one because 13 Manly players couldn't combine to make one tackle as the Eels moved the ball 110 metres in one movement and scored. But, you know, that obviously had nothing at all to do with the result.

Interestingly, Manly also scored a try that benefited from an uncalled obstruction. Also an uncalled forward pass in the set preceding their own third try.

Mentions of these incidents during Des Hasler's sook....err...post-match rant?

FUCKEN ZERO.

Mentions of the fact his team has now thrown away a 20-4 and a 20-0 lead in consecutive weeks?

Yep, you guessed it....ZERO.

"Now, let's go through this one more time! What do we do when we have the opposition pinned back on their own deadball line, 110 metres away from scoring?...Come on, someone!? Anyone!?"

But credit to Des not only for going through life with one of the worst haircuts this side of a 3 foot long mullet, credit him for helping me enjoy the Eels beating Manly even more than usual.

See it's not only fun to beat them, it's EVEN MORE FUN when they cry about it.

Stay tuned next week - Manly give up a 22-4 lead and blame ALIEN FUCKEN INVADERS, ZOMBIE PLAGUES, MAYAN CALENDARS and CLIMATE CHANGE.

I'm back. And I'm not happy.

Alright that's it.

You actually went and did it, world.

You really did. You decided that I couldn't be left alone in peace and you had to go and throw enough morons at me to really piss me off and now I'm all enraged and have to blog again.

And so now EVERYONE is going to cop a spray.

Don't blame me. Blame the morons.

What a KHunt.

Karmichael Hunt, showing a complete mastery of the AFL-skill "falling over spectacularly and for absolutely no apparent reason". Note the absence of the ball anywhere in this shot.

Karmichael Hunt, or, as this blog prefers to call him, The KHunt, last week officially announced his intention to leave rugby league and the Brisbane Broncos to sign elsewhere.

Ho-hum, really. Even the part about switching to another sport is no longer particularly news-worthy, given the number of league players coming off contract that whore themselves out to French or Japanese rugby these days.

And don't mention Willie Mason's brief flirtation with the NFL. Anyone who knows anything about the NFL (which therefore excludes every staff member of the Daily Telegraph and their families and associates) laughed at that non-story as soon as it was printed.

Also don't mention "boxers" like John Hopoate or Solomon Haumono, or even Mundine for that matter. Chumps the lot, steadfastly choosing to be big fish in a pond so small it is barely worth calling a pi$$-puddle.

No, this particular KHunt buggered off to Gay-F-L, or aussie rules, to play for the new Gold Coast team.

Reading about this was the first time Chov even became aware there WAS such a thing as a "new Gold Coast team" so there you go, learning IS a lifelong calling.

But, really, who the f*ck cares?

Oh, sure, the typical mungo reaction is to get all stroppy like they did when Sonny Bill Williams pi$$ed off, then you have the inevitable whinging about the salary cap blah blah and the general brouhaha that league can't survive its stars being lured away etc etc.

Roll the same f*cken tape as last time, really, that's all it is. Except for Phil Rothfield pinching an idea from the A-League to have marquee players under the cap and f*cken trying to call it his own idea.

No, what amused Chov most about this non-story was, predictably, the media spin on it and the sheer, overwhelming amount of f*cken bull$hit that every second moron spewed forth as "opinion" about the whole thing.

We had those who questioned whether KHunt could really play AFL at the top level. Which is a fair question, I suppose, if I f*cken cared enough about the answer.

The real response encompassed such irrelevant points on the compass as "played a game or two in school" and "knows you get a point for missing" all the way up to "kicked a ball to [Collingwood legend] Nathan Buckley in his trainers" - all of which were apparently evidence he could someday win a Brownlow.

What's so stupid about that paragraph is that you'd be hard pressed to pick which "answer" I made the f*ck up and which two were real.

I mean, f*ck me dead, if that's what counts as talent identification and development in the AFL then I'll chuck my current job in and get a sponsored SUV from the AFL to drive all-expenses paid around Australia the rest of my days as a legendary AFL "scout".

Of course there was also the obligatory denial by the Khunt himself that the traitorous move was motivated by cold, hard f*cken cash. No, it was about the "challenge" and isn't it f*cken always?

But what really elevated this particular f*cken Khunt in Chov's estimation was his quote that it was the challenge of being a "pioneer" in switching to AFL that got his pecker hard in ways a dirty cubicle blow-job could only dream of.

"Being a pioneer in this regard was also particularly appealing," said the Khunt, presumably sober for long enough to string the words together.

So, not content with merely being a lying Khunt and denying what a greedy Khunt he is, he decided to portray himself as a f*cken PIONEER FOR KHUNTS EVERYWHERE, INSPIRING EVERY TOM, DICK AND KHUNT TO EVER GREATER HEIGHTS. YOU TOO CAN BE A KHUNT!

By christ, he's more than an athlete, he's the F*CKEN SIR EDMUND HILLARY OF FOOTBALL'S MOUNT EVEREST! He's doing it FOR ALL THE LITTLE KHUNTS WHO IDOLISE HIM, and for that repressed BIG KHUNT IN ALL OF US!

What a glorious over-estimation of self by a magnificently self-obssessed KHunt.

For that alone he wins this year's "Maurice Clarett Award" - Clarett being the last moron Chov heard of that threw out the old "pioneer" line.

One presumes, then, that the KHunt was ready to play AFL for a 50% pay-cut just because he wanted to be a "pioneer".

Like f*ck he was. Khunt that he is.

But then maybe he was just referring to his desire to introduce a whole new sub-set of female sporting groupies to the joys of toilet-trysts with a hot, sweaty Khunt.

The Khunt estimates how many drunk women he can squeeze into a dirty toilet cubicle for sex at the QLD celebration post-game party.

However, there's also the lifestyle on the Coast, which didn't entirely escape the KHunt's attention.

"Moving to the Coast is going to be fantastic because I really enjoy the city," he told Brisbane's Courier-Mail.

Apropos to nothing, a quote from today's papers:

"WITH their proud club in unprecedented crisis after a record hiding on Saturday night, Broncos stars Justin Hodges and Karmichael Hunt can now be named as two Maroons players at t he centre of Queensland's party-fuelled preparation for Origin III...One player was alleged to be in a "comatose state" on the Gold Coast party strip and Hunt has admitted to partying at exclusive Broadbeach nightclub East on the night in question."

Yeah, the KHunt really enjoys the city all right.

Mind you, to be fair, the Khunt also admits in the Courier-Mail article that he has "...never seen the family side of the city ", and in light of the quote immediately above he does seem to be telling the truth there rather than being a lying KHunt.

But the acme of idiocy in this whole affair was, unsurprisingly, provided by our friends at the worst newspaper in the world - the Daily Telegraph of Sydney - who never met an overreactive piece of f*cken media hype they wouldn't go down on faster than a $10 prostitute.

No sooner had the ink dried on KHunt's contract than they were spinning it into a frenzy of hyperbole, unsubstantiated rumour and wild half-baked half-assed linkages to an out-of-proportion and baseless premise - that suddenly the NRL's stars were all going to leave for AFL-land.

Screams the intro: "...six more NRL superstars have emerged as potential recruits to the cashed-up enemy code."

Not ACTUAL recruits, just potential recruits. Let's play f*cken weasel-word bingo.

"Greg Inglis, Johnathan Thurston and Billy Slater head a marquee list in the AFL crosshairs..."

No mention of who produced this "marquee list", or if it even exists, as opposed to being a FIGMENT OF DEAN RITCHIE'S FEVERISH IMAGINATION.

But maybe there's something to it. Maybe there IS a secret dossier, and this really IS the first salvo in a clandestine war by AFL to snare all of rugby league's top stars...let's examine the Daily Telegraph's evidence...

"And last night the three superstars' managers admitted they would not ignore future offers from the AFL to defect."

So....no ACTUAL offers. Just three managers admitting that, if asked to suck uncircumcised cock for money, they WOULDN'T SAY NO STRAIGHT AWAY.

Really, where's the f*cken story?

Is it in the following quotes from George Mimis, whore-agent for Billy Slater?

"Billy is a tremendous athlete - his skills would be suited to any football code, including AFL,'' Mimis said."

Except that his "skills" don't include "being able to grow another 4 feet instantaneously".

"No doubt all the Melbourne AFL clubs would have had a good chance to watch Billy. He has re-signed with the Storm but you would never say never.''

So, every Melbourne-based AFL club has been watching Billy Slater all this time, but when it came time to re-sign with the Storm, NOT F*CKEN ONE OF THEM MADE AN OFFER TO EVEN TALK ABOUT IT.

The Craig Gower-Karmichael Hunt combo - now on sale at NRL Shop for about ten f*cken cents.

But here comes the Telegraph with their best piece of unsubtantiated rubbish yet....based on ABSOLUTELY F*CKEN NOTHING they wet their pants and exclaim....

"The code-swapping is likely to intensify when the AFL moves into western Sydney for 2012."

Eeek! Run to the hills, as my friend the Mayor of Mac Fields is fond of saying in times of greatly over-stated emergency.

Yeah, based on ONE SINGLE DEFECTION in over ONE HUNDRED YEARS of both sports, occurring in a DIFFERENT STATE and DIFFERENT CITY, and in the COMPLETE AND UTTER ABSENCE OF ANY F*CKEN ACTUAL EVIDENCE TO UNDERPIN IT, this quote in the Tele makes heaps of sense, sure.

So, at this rate, the last rugby league player will move to AFL sometime in the year 8445 AD. Brilliant journalism, f*ckwads.

The fact that is is the FIRST F*CKEN TIME EVER IN THE HISTORY OF EARTH that a rugby league player has moved to AFL at this level was so F*CKEN OBVIOUS that even Manly coach Des Hasler COULDN'T F*CKEN MISS IT:

"AFL has certainly struck the first blow."

Captain Obvious was just off-camera when Des made this remark, dusting off his hands and saying "My work here is done!" before attempting to fly away.

"It will be interesting to see how David [Gallop] and the NRL board reacts," Hasler he went on to say.

Well, probably by doing precisely three-thirds of F*CK ALL, Des. Let's face it, the KHunt is a serial offender off the field and I doubt that David Gallop could give a flying monkey-f*ck what he does as he long as he does it in AFL.

NRL Chief David Gallop, reading from a prepared statement: "I am f*cken ecstatic the Khunt will finally besmirch rugby league no more. I am looking forward to no more mornings waking up wondering what the Khunt has gone and done this time. As far as I am concerned, he's now an AFL KHunt. If we could only ship ALLof our KHunts off to AFL I could retire."

Come to think of it, Gallop possibly even organised it behind the scenes, just to saddle the unsuspecting AFL with a trouble-making KHunt, knowing it will only be a matter of time before the drunk KHunt smashes the booze in his favourite haunts in Surfer's Paradise and saves on a hotel room by taking his lady-friends to the bogs instead for a cramped get-to-know-you.

But let's compare and contrast quotes from the Sydney Morning Herald with the sensationlist bull$hit in the Tele.

"THE managers of three NRL stars considered the most likely to be successful AFL converts have scoffed at the notion their clients could follow in Karmichael Hunt’s footsteps."

Slight difference of opinion there, then?

"..it appears talk is all it will ever amount to."

Israel Folau's agent: ‘‘I don’t think anyone’s even talked about it.’’

Of Jarryd Hayne: "Hayne is off contract with Parramatta at the end of next season, but when asked if AFL was an option, his agent, Wayne Beavis, said: ‘‘Not at all."

Greg Inglis's agent: "Allan Gainey...said: ‘‘He’s never had an approach … It’s never been mentioned.’’

Wait a minute, didn't the Tele claim to have talked to Greg Inglis's agent as well? Christ, do they even PRETEND to be REAL JOURNALISTS THESE DAYS?

Of course, before you think Chov is giving the Herald a bouquet, they went and af*cken ruined it by asking Laurie Daley, King of All F*ckwits, to make the case for hairy KHunt being a success at AFL.

Why they did is anyone's guess. Chov must have missed the part where Laurie Daley grew a clue about AFL and became a 12-time AFL premiership winning coach.

But hey, it's Laurie Daley, so...cue: imbecile statements? You betcha!

"The one thing you have to be in AFL is courageous..."

Hmmm. So, according to Laurie "Expert on Everything" Daley, there is only ONE, SINGLE, SOLITARY ELEMENT FOR AFL SUCCESS?

And no, according to Laurie Daley IT ISN'T EVEN BEING ABLE TO F*CKEN KICK - so there goes about 15 million non-winning betting tickets getting ripped up - no the winner according to Laurie is just being "courageous".

And you f*cken wonder why I want to pound Laurie Daley's head with a car-door whenever he opens his dumb mouth.

But let's allow the Gay-F-L to have the last word, and simultaneously explain why I love calling it that.

The big KHunt's new coach at the Gold Coast, Guy McKenna: "We will sit down and map out his next 18 months and work out from a physical point of view and a technical side of things a program but I CAN'T WAIT TO GET MY HANDS ON HIM."

After concluding the interview at the request of a reporter concerned that the coach was frotting himself on a poster of the ugly KHunt, McKenna took off his pink ballet slippers, grabbed the massage oil and minced into the showers with the rest of his players and staff for a "cool-down" session that lasted four and a half hours.

Quite why they would want a KHunt in AFL is beyond me - will they even know what to do with it?

Unexplained Mysteries of the Universe

Chov, as you know, is one of the great thinkers of modern times.

Which means he thinks a lot.

About all sorts of $hit that affects the world around us all, usually through the idiocy of others.

And Chov tries to find answers. Meaning. Something with which to make sense of the world's morons and their actions, so that we all might be better able to combat them.

And sometimes, those answers, and that meaning, just ain't forthcoming.

And some other times, Chov can only marvel at the Universe because there must be an answer there somewhere, only he just can't find it.

So allow me to present to you the following enigma, aided with pictures:

This is a picture of a bulldog I had as a kid. After a f*cken truck ran over its face. A truck carrying a full unsecured load of export grade F*CK OFF UGLY.

See that there is f*cken ugly. Let's be honest. That's f*cken brutal that is.

And I don't want to hear any bull$hit about how Chov isn't a spring chicken, glass houses etc etc because Chov is a f*cken Adonis and I'll hear no different.

But the point is that you don't need to be beautiful like me (people weep openly in the street as they gaze upon my strange, unnatural, beauty) to understand that the picture above is not conducive to the survival of the human race because it inhibits the breeding instinct.

All of which is a great f*cken argument for evolution.

See, evolution is just a process of the natural world, which often f*cks up. F*cking up is just human.

So, although the object of most life is to pro-create, every now and then something like THAT, in THAT PICTURE UP THERE, comes along and f*cks up the great chain of life.

See, nobody in command of their faculties would knowingly breed with that, so whatever the genetic code is for UGLEE it, awesomely, dies without being passed on to offspring. Hence, nature fixes its own f*ckups, which is more than can be said for John Ribot.

Can't really fathom why non-evolution believers (let's just call them F*CKEN MORONS for short) would think God would shoe-horn ugly f*ckers into his grand master plan, but that's just my ignorance I guess. Some f*cken paradise - I mean there's going to be $hitloads of celibate, chaste, UGLY f*cken nuns in heaven, but no hot porno lesbians.

So think about that when you're in the Judgement Day voting booth.

But, look, none of this is any mystery to me or you or anybody not named Kevin Rudd, who just might use his week off to write a f*cken seven million word essay on it.

And still MISS THE F*CKEN POINT BY EIGHTEEN MILES.

The mystery is presented thusly:

Photographic evidence that Kim Clijsters, on the left, has used strange NINJA-BASED SHAPE-SHIFTING POWERS to transform into a F*CKEN FOX. I'm not sure, but she actually looks like she's checking me out. Yeah you know it baby. You want some of The Chov. Don't fight it. It's only natural. Yeeeeaaaaah....

How.

The.

F*ck.

Did.

That.

Happen?

It's like watching the magician like a f*cken hawk as he rips up your card and proceeds to light his farts on fire with it, but then at the end reach into his ar$e crack to brilliantly pull out your f*cken ten of hearts right there.

"How'd he do it!?" some annoying frig-wit will always exclaim.

Looking at picture #2 above, I don't f*cken care.

So, like at the magic show, I'll stop looking for the sleight of hand and just enjoy it for what it is - one of the Universe's BEST mysteries - how ugly chicks can suddenly look hand-spankin' hot.

But now I'm fascinated with this concept. It's like there's a battle between good and ugly going on right in front of my eyes. So tell me, what are the best ugly-hot-ugly_again transformations you've seen?

You know, the ones that leave you scratching your head and saying to yourself "wasn't she just ugly? hot dang woman you doin' somethin' RIGHT!" or, conversely, "what was i thinking? put the lube and tissues away this show is OVER."

Email them to chov54@bigpond.com

I'll discuss the best ones when I get around to giving a $hit, but it will happen.

Machine-Gun Moronity #2: The Facts Are Wrong, Rafa, No?

Man Utd, Official #1 Favourite Sporting Team of The Chov, won their 18th league title a couple of months ago, bringing them level with the bin-dippers from Merseyside, who have been growing increasingly rattled and hysterical ever since we came within spitting distance of their record.

And one of the most satisfying elements of this league title was that it came at the expense of Liver Poo's over-rated moron of a manager, Rafa Benitez, also known as the "Man of A Million Excuses", "The Penniless Spaniard" and "The Mouth of La Mancha".

Despite being Liver Poo's manager, he secretly dresses up in Man Utd lingerie, puts lipstick on and smears himself with lube while fantasising about being the boss at Old Trafford, I'm certain.

How else to explain the "fact" that he CAN'T GO 35 F*CKEN SECONDS WITHOUT TALKING ABOUT US!?

He must f*cken ramble to himself on the crapper, in the shower, taking out the garbage on bin night etc etc.

Perhaps if he managed his own team instead of conducting 36 hour research missions on Man Utd's transfer activity (and STILL GETTING IT WRONG MIND YOU) they might not have finished RUNNERS UP.

The f*cken dope.

This managerial "genius" built his reputation on one of the ar$iest f*cken comebacks in sporting history, making a few panic substitutions in a Champion's League Final that came good.

Mind you, the team didn't win, they just drew, and got the trophy on penalties after a shoot-out.

The oft-overlooked part of this is that, if he was such a tactical genius, why was his team down 3-0 in the f*cken first place?

When the same two teams met in a subsequent final, Mr Tactical Genius got his f*cken over-rated ar$ehole handed to him. Miracle comebacks don't strike twice.

But they do shield you from criticism over the fact your transferred players have been mostly $hite and your team continues to win F*CK ALL on the league front.

But big-balls Rafa, with his team having established a commanding mid-season lead, decided to shoot his f*cken mouth off in the now historic "Rafa's Rant".

See, Rafa is like a pimply-faced nerd virgin who has managed to talk a drunk girl into letting him unhook her bra.

Never having been so close to girls and scoring before, the nerd of course blows his load all over his pants in the excitement, ultimately ruining the entire experience. But causing great amusement to everyone else.

Rafa, all giddy at being top of the table and clear of Man Utd, couldn't contain himself. And, fancying himself as a bit of a Miguel De Cervantes, decided to opine on all matter of rubbish, claiming (among other hilarious tidbits):

1. Man Utd were "nervous" because Liver Poo were top of the table,
2. Man Utd manager Sir Alex Ferguson runs / rules / is immune to / dictates the entire refereeing and disciplinary structure of English football,
3. and also sets up, in his spare time, the entire fixture list of english football to suit Man Utd and cunningly deny Liver Poo any advantage.

4. Man Utd are descended from the Knights Templar and are all masons.

5. Carlos Tevez knows what's in Area 51 (he comes from there).

6. Man Utd "fixes" the Top 50 music charts.

7. Man Utd faked the moon landing.

8. Man Utd are withholding proof of cold fusion, extra-terrestrial life and a cure for cancer from the world.

After about an HOUR of ranting and hysterical cry-baby antics talking about this, he closed with the utterly f*cken remarkable comment: "I would rather not talk too much about this."

Without any hint of irony, mind you.

He also said "If we win at Stoke that [Man Utd v Chelsea] result does not matter."

Of course Liver Poo went and pi$$ed their panties against lowly Stoke, drawing 0-0.

They also saw their commanding January lead at the top of the table whittled down, but by bit, until Man Utd passed them for good to claim the title.

DESPITE THIS F*CKEN PANTS-WETTING CHOKE JOB OF EPIC PROPORTIONS, Liver Poo fans worship this f*cken tool.

Which is wonderful, because they will keep him, which gives us the best possible start to winning title #19. Which is also the number of YEARS Liver Poo have gone since their last title win.

Which is a "fact", Rafa. Can you spot the difference?

And of course the excuses start. Liver Poo only lost because Stevie G and Torres were injured all the time.

Well f*cken buy replacements who can cover, dip$hit, instead of blowing all that money on Robbie Keane, and then SELLING HIM BACK TO THE SAME TEAM FOR LESS MONEY HALFWAY THROUGH THE SEASON. What? It's a SURPRISE that Gerrard and Torres are crocked half the time? F*ck me, if you turned off watching MUTV occasionally you'd notice it, believe me.

Liver Poo only lost because Man Utd typically spend, according to Rafa, about eleventy hundred trillion pounds on players every year, and he can only afford to buy players with whatever's in his pocket, typically a couple of bob, some lint balls, some of Kenny Dalglish's hair that he cut off surreptitiously and an Official Breast Inspector ID.

Of course, after spouting this rubbish, he went and blew his cash load all over the face of middling fullback Glen Johnson for 17 mill (who cost Portsmouth just 4 mill when they bought him).

Rafa was so impressed by Glen Johnson's popped collar he added another 2 million to the Portsmouth offer.

Not to mention the way in which Rafa preened and pouted and played the cheap tart to try and woo Gareth "Garry" Barry from Aston Villa without ever meeting Villa's asking price. Of course, when Garry Barry upped and moved to Man City this season for 12 mill (5 mill less than Rafa's price for Glen Johnson, let's recall) Rafa was furious.

As though Garry had some f*cken moral obligation to come to Liver Poo, despite the fact they wouldn't meet the team's asking price and threw in an offer of less wages to sweeten the deal.

Rafa is muchos f*ckwit.

And thas a fact, no?

Machine-Gun Moronity #1: Saving The World, One Moron At A Time

I hate it when work gets in the way of my social life. My social life consisting of a desire to do not much of anything except hurl Thongs of Smiting at the TV screen when things pi$$ me off.

So many issues have tapped the throbbing vein of my rage in recent times I will have to machine-gun them - i.e a few short bursts of hard-hitting bile-bullets - in order to get through them and catch up on this ridiculous blog.

So, in no particular order, here's #1.

Regular readers of this nonsense will understand that Chov treats global warming hysterics with the contempt and ridicule they f*cken deserve.

The climate changes, people. It has for billions of years. We probably have something to do with it, but not much, because we haven't been here long enough and NOBODY IN THE F*CKEN WORLD UNDERSTANDS ANY SINGLE VARIABLE OF CLIMATE ENOUGH TO SAY ANYTHING F*CKEN USEFUL ABOUT ANTHROPOGENIC CAUSATION.

But on goes the hysteria, as though the sea is rising and I am typing this with F*CKEN MANTA-RAYS SWIMMING AROUND MY ANKLES ALREADY.

The latest piece of hysterical bull$hit to get my goat is this emissions-trading bill, which, under any other circumstances, would immediately be cast as one of the most brain-f*ckingly stupid ideas of all time.

But because the f*cken hysterics have taken over, it's rumoured to be a double-dissolution election trigger. The f*cken government of our nation could be decided by this f*ckwittery.

Why is it stupid, Chov, o wonderous scourge of f*ckwits everywhere?

I'm glad you asked!

Because it actually does precisely 100.0% of F*CK ALL whilst convincing morons like Bob Brown it will actually save the world.

What it does is allow industry to POLLUTE ALL THE F*CK THEY WANT, so long as they pay for it with stupid little certificates.

So it's just a tax.

That's it.

That's the magic cure for the earth, KRudd style.

Relying completely on industry to voluntarily reduce emissions so they subsequently save on tax.

Which completely ignores the great likelihood they'll do one (or both) of 2 things:

1. Pass the f*cken cost on to consumers, because what f*cken company do YOU know wears this sort of $hit themselves in order to serve the greater "good"?
2. F*ck off to India and China where they laugh at this sort of stupid f*cken scheme, and have already f*cked it off.
And, as for (1), remember that poor people (i.e "working families") will be subsidised for increased energy costs.

So, if the energy sector pass on the cost of emissions trading, and then KRudd subsisides the poor people on their bills anyway, WHAT THE F*CK HAS BEEN ACHIEVED?

Where's the incentive for any-f*cken-one to reduce emitting ANYTHING other than f*cktard-brainwaves?

Aaah, rich people, I hear you mutter.

Rich people can afford it and will likely do bugger all except whinge about the extra on their bill, then pay it anyway.

So, if you are a f*cking clueless herd-follower who is screaming about climate-change and f*cken polar bears drowning, ask yourself this question about the emissions-trading scheme world-saving extravaganza - how the f*ck does it reduce emissions, pinheads?

And why doesn't KRudd commit to using the tax to fund alternative energy development - like, oh, cold fusion (which is at about the same level of scientific credibility as climate change models)?

Stupid f*ckers the lot.

And now, we interrupt our regular rubbish to bring you a serious RAGE interlude..

And so, after a period of dormancy, Chov returns with a rage to blister the paint on his walls and which blew out about 14 of those stupid little downlights around his hut (Chov lives as a recluse in a hut somewhere up in the ranges around Canberra).

I have to think that the period of inactivity on this blog was due to the fact that Chov has not watched much NRL this year.

The last moments of footy viewed happened to be the Eels taking a 12-0 lead over the Cowboys a few weeks back. And then I switched off, disinterested.

And that was with my team of sad-sacks actually WINNING for a freakin’ change.

No interest. And without interest, no rage. No rage, minimal blogging.

Because Chov no longer cares.

Allow me to momentarily expand the rant to pass judgement on why the entire horror movie genre now sucks balls. It’s a meandering parallel but, trust me, it’ll illustrate the point.

Horror movies work when one critical element is successfully implemented by the writers and directors: they get you to care about what happens to the ‘victims’.

If you care, you get emotionally involved on even a minimal level, then what happens to them will trigger an emotional reaction. Even the thought or likelihood of something happening to them, or not happening to them, will make us either anxious for them or relieved.

And that’s where the basis of a good horror flick comes good. You care, you get involved in the plot and voila, the movie is playing with your emotions on that level and makes an impact.

Actually it could apply to any movie, eg who gives a $hit about what happened to Jar-Jar Binks at the end of Star Wars: Episode III?, but horror movies explain it best.

So Wolf Creek was a steaming pile of turd because nobody gave a $hit about the 3 dopey morons who got wiped out. Also the fact that the clichéd ending was f*cking ridiculous didn’t help either, but that’s not my point.

Bringing it back to the main road with a thud – Chov no longer cares about the characters in the grandiose NRL movie he is watching, so he doesn’t care what happens to them anymore.

I can’t actually convince myself to give a $hit whether or not a bunch of overpaid misogynist Gen-Y f*ckwits actually score more points than the other bunch or not.

I can’t.

Next person to try and tell me that rugby league is the “toughest” game in the world gets a face full of my vomit sprayed at high velocity.

Tough guys don’t whinge f*cking INCESSANTLY like these gutless turds.

They whinge they don’t get paid enough money, whinging all the way to f*cken France (where archaeologists believe the “SURRENDER” tackle may have originated) if they have to because…..because….well….err…for no f*cken reason at all actually other than they just feel a f*cken ENTITLEMENT to have more money.

It sure ain’t commensurate with their contribution to society. And it ain’t like they have real bills to pay, or real –life to face up to every morning.

They whinge when they can’t go to Japan to play other codes.

They whinge when they have to play “too many” games.

They whinge when they drop 14 balls and miss 32 tackles in a game but BLAME THE REF for some supposedly CRUCIAL call that costs them the game.

They whinge when they get suspended for grapple tackles caught live by 13 different cameras.

But that’s not enough, apparently.

No, this season they have perfected the art of f*cking well WHINGING WHEN THEY GET PUNISHED FOR DOING SOMETHING F*CKING WRONG.

I mean, that’s hubris on a f*cking breath-taking scale.

Turd Carney was having a brilliant unbroken run of alcohol-fuelled incidents that included urinating on a guy’s head for a laugh and that old chestnut, drink-driving. Unfortunately the police don’t prosecute persons of interest for the crime of being a total f*cking tool, or else Turd would be a guest of her majesty right now.

He was released by his club and told to f*ck off by the NRL.

So HE WHINGED.

OF COURSE.

He didn’t volunteer to attend any alcohol-related recovery activity, he didn’t volunteer to do any community service, he didn’t offer to modify his future behaviour IN ANY F*CKEN WAY AT ALL, he JUST WHINGED that the NRL wouldn’t register him to play.

Brett Stewart has “allegedly” sexually assaulted a 17 year old. Police and the DPP thought there was enough in it to prosecute. The NRL suspended him.

And his club and team-mates F*CKING WHINGED ABOUT IT.

Anthony Watmough has a head that looks like it was mashed into a f*cking sandpit by an elephant’s foot. At a pre-season ‘launch’, he acted like a f*cking prat and punched a sponsor in the mouth after making disparaging remarks about the sponsor’s daughter.

HOW DARE THE F*CKING FATHER STICK UP FOR HIS DAUGHTER, EH?

Did Watmough apologise?

F*CK NO!!

The players whinge that they can’t go out and get trolleyed, as though that’s all the rest of society does 7 nights a f*cken week. The players whinge they can’t have non-consensual group sex with any woman they choose, as though it’s some sort of f*cking birth-right of theirs.

They even whinge when a woman they’ve degraded and disrespected doesn’t just shut the F*CK up about it.

How glorious for me that, this week, the f*cking Emperor of Australian White Trash, Matty Johns, should get smeared and exposed as the f*cking Mungo, low-intellect misogynistic tool he really f*cking is and was all along.

Reg Reagan stops being funny after you turn 11, unless you’re a real f*cking mullet-loving booner.

And “hard core” NRL fan.

Involved in a group sex incident with a 19 year old 7 years ago, he is the sort of arrogant twunt who thinks that a token apology to his mates should be the f*cken end of it all. Incredulous that he should even have to apologise a second time.

Upon hearing that his name would be mentioned and the incident described in a Four Corners special, did he make a quiet approach to the show’s producers to pass on a personal written apology to the girl in question? Just, you know, for example?

F*CK NO!!

He went on Booner-Heaven TV (aka The Footy Show) instead and made a half-hearted self-serving apology to himself, his wife (yes he was married) and his own family, surrounded the whole time by the same Neanderthal low-IQ f*ckwits that think he did nothing wrong simply because “no charges were laid”.

So it’s ok to degrade a woman as you see fit, to treat her like a piece of f*cking worthless trash, to act out every selfish misogynistic fantasy your Year 8 educated brain can muster – as long as THE BITCH DOESN’T TELL THE COPS?

And hey, if you’re married, just apologise and that buys you a lifetime of silence, and nobody CAN EVER BRING IT UP AGAIN?

And so now, of course, they WHINGE when it does get brought up again, as though nobody has the right to do that.

The question that Four Corners SHOULD have, of course, asked this woman was – “What did you expect was going to happen by going to the room of a footballer on tour? Did you think it was going to be a romantic candlelit dinner, followed by port and cigars, stimulating discussion and soft, passionate love-making, culminating in a marriage proposal?”

Dumb, dumb, f*cking dumb.

But being dumb doesn’t entitle a bunch of f*cking low-intellect Neanderthal f*ckwits to treat you like that. You don’t ‘deserve’ that for being dumb.

I, by contrast, was raised to treat women with respect. And I will endeavour to raise my own son the same way. Out of respect to all the women I know, including a gorgeous little god-daughter I have whose future I think of when I write this.

Respect women.

What a f*cking concept, eh?

What a f*cking bizarre, other-worldly concept?

And this whole “who hasn’t made mistakes when they were young” thing is getting stretched really f*cking thin.

I was young. I have been on countless football trips. And yes, I made mistakes and drank too much on many occasions.

Somehow, though, I managed to avoid drink-driving, rapes, brawls, getting shot at and urinating on people. Somehow I managed to get through life without using alcohol as an excuse. For F*CKEN ANYTHING.

I must just be f*cken lucky, I suppose.

The NRL apparently runs education courses for young players entering the game, teaching them how to act away from the field.

How is it that you need f*cking LESSONS to teach you how to act like a f*cking HUMAN BEING?

And, amongst all this, I’m supposed to cheer these guys on when they cross the stripe and CARE whether they win or lose?

Can’t do it.

Happy Birthday to Me. Again.

The Chov celebrating a whopping 35 angry orbits today!!

Chov's 15 Second Book Review, followed by Chov's 15 Minute Book Review (of the same book).

You may not be aware of the fact that I am a member of the Mac Fields Book Club, a small gathering of like-minded intellectuals who like to appreciate literature and discuss its merits whilst the chairman, Cracka Nash (Mayor of Mac Fields) serves tea in fine china cups in his extensive gardens.

The latest literary offering I have digested is “Justice For All: The Truth About Metallica” by music “journalist” Joel McIver.

This book should have been called "Metallica: 300 Pages of Some Fanboy Bitch Whining About A Band He's Not Even A Member Of"

It purports to be “exposing the myths” around the band, telling the “unvarnished truth” about how they “really” formed and developed.

And whilst I will expound in more detail upon Joel’s offering shortly, here is Chov’s 15 Second Review for those of you trying to read this at work:

Joel McIver: I think the “Black Album” and everything after it is $hit. Waaah, waaah, waaah. I wanted St Anger to be good, and it was $hit, waaah, waaah, waaah. Metallica were mean and rude when they sued Napster, waaah, waaah, waaaah. Metallica don’t play fast anymore, waaah, waaah, waaah. Metallica cut their hair short, waaah, waaah, waaah. And somehow, in a book about Metallica, a disturbing number of quotes from a former member of the stupidest metal band ever – Stryper.

That just saved all of you the few days or so of your life you would have spent reading this and never received back.

First, allow me to express my view on music ‘critics’ and music ‘journalists’ like Joel McIver generally.

And because I am a lazy man, rather than coming up with my own words, I’ll use someone else’s because they are perfect and have already done the job.

Specifically, the mighty Australian band T.I.S.M. and their classic track “BFW” (Big F*cking Whoopee).

Now the lyrics themselves are actually about FOOD critics, but the sentiment is PERFECTLY applied to MUSIC CRITICS as well.

“By Christ, when your life's specialty is forcing another morsel of over-glazed lamb shank down your oily, globular, over-opinionated gullet, when, of all the things in the world men are called to do…of all the vocations of love and adventure…of all the trials of the emotions and amongst all the voyages of spirit mankind can embark upon, when, given this whole universe of possible callings, the one YOU choose is to sit on your crapulent crack and LAZILY WHINE about SOMEONE ELSE’S cooking, that's when YOU KNOW, you are at the very ACME of the BFW shit heap.”

Three hundred-odd f*cken pages of self-wankery by Mr McIver amounts to precisely that – f*cking cry-baby whining that Metallia haven’t re-recorded “Master of Puppets” 27 times.

And I bet, if they had, he would be f*cking whining that have never ‘evolved’ or ‘moved forward’.

You can tell a f*cking obnoxious, pretentious tw@t of a Metallica fan immediately – they are ALWAYS the ones who try to ‘distinguish’ themselves by aligning with the “Master of Puppets”-crowd and badmouthing everything from the “Load”-era.

As though that f*cking means any-f*cking-thing.

Oh, you’re no ‘bandwagon jumper’, I get that.

But big f*cking deal. The world doesn’t care.

I have pretty much all the major releases by Metallica, except for “S&M”. And I like all of them in their own way. But whether you do, or anyone else does, means three-thirds of F*CK ALL to me. I think "S&M" is one of the most f*cking wanking ideas that pomposity ever devised. But who gives a $hit? I don't need to write a book about it.

See, I couldn’t give a $hit what some pompous, self-obsessed wanker fanboy thinks of “Reload”, song-by-f*cking-song.

It’s music – you like it or you don’t. There’s no f*cking PRECISE SCIENCE to it. The fact, Mr McIver, that you think “The Memory Remains” is a steaming pile of turd means exactly F*CK ALL outside of your own ar$ehole.

And the cause of so much of your irrelevant angst is that Metallica went in a different direction with 1991’s self-titled “Black” album, and, in your mind, have never returned.

To be fair, this is a view shared by many Metallica fanboys, who are united in their 17 years of incessant crying, whinging and f*cking whining about it.

Joel McIver, whose opinion Metallica should listen to. And who should try to strike poses like this in photo-shoots. According to Joel McIver. Because Joel McIver thinks Joel McIver is the bomb.

See, I went through all 300 pages of the book to try and find the part where Joel McIver joined Metallica, even briefly.

Maybe, I thought, he might have filled in just after original bassist Cliff Burton was killed? Nope.

Maybe he was in after bassist Jason Newsted quit, and the band had not yet hired Robert Trujillo? Nope.

Maybe the early, early days, before they hit it big? Nope.

Maybe he was like the keyboardist for Black Sabbath all those years, the guy who played live off-stage and nobody ever saw him but he was definitely playing along? Nope.

So I can only conclude that Joel f*cking McIver was NEVER IN METALLICA.

But, not be deterred, Mr McIver STILL THINKS EVERYONE, BUT MOSTLY THE BAND THEMSELVES, SHOULD LISTEN TO HIS F*CKING WHINING.

Here’s a UNIVERSAL TRUTH for all you fanboys out there. In fact, it could apply to being an obsessive wanker fanboy of anything, but we’ll stick to Metallica for a moment.

BEING A FAN DOESN’T MEAN YOU OWN THE BAND.

YOU DON’T GET TO MAKE DECISIONS ABOUT ANYTHING THE BAND F*CKING DOES.

They don’t have to listen to you, or any of your f*cking cry-baby bitching, and when they inevitably DON’T – just shut the f*ck up and SUCK IT UP.

If they want to record a f*cking CHRISTMAS ALBUM, then THEY F*CKING WELL CAN. YOU DON’T GET TO VOTE ON IT, DIP$HITS.

And all the crybabies who f*cking sooked about the band suing Napster, and took your pathetic “fanhood” somewhere else in a f*cking pi$$-ant little “protest” – NOBODY F*CKING CARES.

According to Wikipedia:

“As of September 2008, Metallica is the fourth highest-selling music artist since the SoundScan era began tracking sales on May 25, 1991, selling a total of 51,136,000 albums in the United States alone.”

To note, 1991 is when the self-titled “Black” album came out, so these figures don’t include “Master of Puppets” or “And Justice For All” or anything else from that era.

This, it seems that, for every whinging, whining f*cking fanboy who hated “Reload” there were a few others that liked it, hmm?

Not that it makes them right and the fanboys wrong, by any means. But at least THEY UNDERSTAND THAT.

They buy it, they like it, they listen to it.

REGARDLESS OF WHAT YOU F*CKING FANBOYS THINK.

And so for all the Metalli-nerds who staged silent protest and “left” the band behind over the Napster thing….51 million albums sold in the States alone says THEY DIDN’T MISS YOU.

So not GIVING A $HIT WHAT YOU THINK seems to be working out for them.

So go ahead, swap your Metallica shirts for Justin Timberlake shirts or something, protect your “integrity” or whatever the f*ck it is you think the world needs to care about. Create your own little tree-house clubs and F*CKING WHINE TO YOUR BITCHY LITTLE HEART’S CONTENT.

Just try and keep it from the rest of us, who don’t give a toss.

But Mr McIver tries to squirm out from under the “over-reacting fanboy” label by pompously anointing himself an authentic objective. In his foreword, he says:

“Metallica have made several decisions across the years – musically, strategically and otherwise – which I regard as errors, and have said so in plain terms…But there are no criticisms here which aren’t deserved.”

What the f*ck?

Who the f*ck cares what YOU classify as errors you pompous f*cktard?! I already established you’re not a member of Metallica, so your opinion on them is worth no more nor less than those of a million other morons. And whether your criticisms of them are deserved or not is not for YOU to decide ABOUT YOUR OWN CRITICISMS you pompous wanker.

Stryper, unintentionally the funniest metal band ever. But then, being a "christian" metal band and throwing bibles into the crowd WILL make Chov laugh. Just looking at this picture should make you want to pray. For F*CKING ARMAGGEDDON.

And, just a free tip for Mr McIver – nobody in the f*cking universe gives a $hit what F*CKEN FORMER MEMBERS OF STRYPER THINK ABOUT ANYTHING, let alone Metallica.

Wearing a lab coat does not make Bonzo the Clown a scientist....

There are some morons in this world who must feel it is their civic duty to spread general dip$hittery around when, in fact, they should instead be inserting their heads into their own ar$eholes where the only damage they can cause is to themselves and their sphincters.

Which would be pleasing to rest of us.

But instead, up they get to say stupid $hit from taller and taller soapboxes, and the sad thing is that, eventually, MORONS FLOCK TO THEM and the stupid $hit they were saying suddenly becomes EN VOGUE.

Stop and f*cken think about what you believe, people, BEFORE YOU START BELIEVING IT.

For starters, all you need to do is TAKE A F*CKEN LOOK AT THE PERSON IN FRONT OF YOU, saying the stupid $hit.

There's normally a great clue right there.

Al Gore is a f*cking dimwitted chump, the same fool who couldn't beat the f*cking CHIMPANZEE-SMART George Bush, and apparently HOOVERS UP F*CKING POWER LIKE AN 80s HEAVY METAL STAR SNORTING COKE...

"In the past year, Gore’s home burned through 213,210 kilowatt-hours (kWh) of electricity, enough to power 232 average American households for a month.

Since taking steps to make his home more environmentally-friendly last June, Gore devours an average of 17,768 kWh per month –1,638 kWh more energy per month than before the renovations – at a cost of $16,533. By comparison, the average American household consumes 11,040 kWh in an entire year, according to the Energy Information Administration."

And the sad part is, millions of f*ckwits all over the world decided that this guy is a f*cken genius and his movie of f*cking outrageous bull$hit was BELIEVABLE.

Al Gore, APPARENTLY A GENIUS OF ALL SCIENCE, proudly posing with a hurricane HE HELPED CREATE.

But why would Al Gore lie about something so serious, Chov?

"In the wake of becoming the most well-known global warming alarmist, Gore won an Oscar, a Grammy and the Nobel Peace Prize. In addition, Gore saw his personal wealth increase by an estimated $100 million thanks largely to speaking fees and investments related to global warming hysteria."

That's just great.

Al Gore's a moron, saying imbecilic things, you f*ckwits decide to believe him on the f*ckwitted basis that he's a f*cken FAILED POLITICIAN WITH NO SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE WHATSOEVER, he gets rich and I HAVE TO F*CKING SUFFER FOR IT.

And I have an even better example.

I mean, who would you turn to for valuable knowledge about your child's health - the World Health Organisation and lots of people with brains?

Or a F*CKING FORMER PLAYBOY BUNNY STAR WHO BARELY SCRAPES BY AS A C-GRADE TV ACTOR?

Nothing screams "BRAINS" like that tag-line eh?

And the message that hundreds of f*ckwits are now swallowing because Jenny McCarthy, the intellectual GIANT, said so?

Vaccines cause autism.

A picture of a vaccine research genius in the lab, examining mass-spectrometer readings.

No they f*cken don't and there's NEVER been ANY proof or even any PERSUASIVE INDEPENDENT EVIDENCE to say so.

But that doesn't stop MORONS from accepting it as FACT.

Here's a FACT. Measles KILLS. Here's another. Whooping Cough KILLS.

But that's ok for the anti-vaccine morons of the world, because they believe some spurious bull$hit and don't want to RISK their child contracting autism from a jab.

These same f*ckwits, I presume, have no problem putting their child into a car and driving down the street, despite the fact that EVEN IF THEIR POSITION WAS TRUE, THEY WOULD STILL BE MORE LIKELY TO HAVE THEIR CHILD HARMED OR KILLED IN A CAR ACCIDENT.

So don't feed me the 'avoiding risk' bull$hit.

The simply brilliant Professor Bob Park, of Maryland University, is succinct:

"On Thursday, three special masters demolished arguments that childhood vaccines, MMR in particular, cause autism. Brian Deer reported in the Sunday Times of London that Dr. Andrew Wakefield, the British physician who set off the vaccine panic, "manipulated and altered data" (also known as "lying") in a 1998 Lancet paper."

He LIED.

Why would a doctor lie about something so serious?

Well, it has recently been "...discovered that Wakefield had been in the pocket of a trial lawyers seeking to sue vaccine manufacturers, having accepted £435,643 in fees, plus £3,910 expenses for his "research."

And yet some people CONTINUE TO ignore such facts, ignore the exposing of LIES and decide to believe $hit BECAUSE A FAILED RICH POLITICIAN and a PLAYBOY BUNNY TOLD THEM TO.

And you f*cking wonder why I'm angry all the time.

Proof that two halfwits don't combine to form one full wit.

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Fifty Posts!

An amazing milestone has been reached!

The Chov has roused himself just often enough to have reached the FIFTY BLOG-POST mark!

Fifty posts of irrelevant rubbish, read by about 12 people.

Go ahead, laugh, mock.

It's still more than YOU'VE done today.

I do, in fact, rule.

Chov's 2008 FUCKWIT of THE YEAR Award!

Ladies and gentlemen, Chov is back from vacation, where he quietly ushered in a new year and put in a few hours sorting out his notes for his future memoirs.

I know the hundreds of you here paid upwards of $1000 a table, which means you've all f*cken gone and pi$$ed KRudd's economic stimulus payments up the f*cken urinal wall - JUST LIKE HE WANTS YOU TO.

Yes, it is indeed time for us to officially kick off 2009 (in February - what can I say, I'm a f*cken lazy lazy man...) by putting a line under 2008 and presenting Chov's FUCKWIT OF THE YEAR Award.

And let me assure you, ladies and gentlemen, this award is one of the most sought after and hotly contested in the world.

You would have to think so, given the sheer number of fuckwits who hovered into Chov's Zone of Consciousness during 2008 and stayed just long enough to annoy the living shit out of him. And anyone else with an IQ over 15.

But deliberately angling for the Award in this sort of shameless fashion doesn't really garner points with the judge.

Who is me.

Although can I take a moment to say this has been the best red carpet parade ever, all you ladies look lovely, and thanks for not making this glittering ceremony a complete sausage-fest like last year.

But let's recap a great year for f*ckwitness in general.

I mean, it was the year of KRudd, Saint Kevin - Patron Saint of Working Families who gets in at 4am every morning to conjure up ways of taking fuckwittery to new heights in public office. He was on the shortlist for this award about 27 times, for christ's sake.

But he's not the winner, and THAT'S saying something impressive.

A short perusal through the archives of Chov's esteemed blog - the one, the only, the Rant Emporium! - is like taking a virtual tour through the dim, dark and terrifying depths of fuckwitaciousness. Go ahead, click a link at random and be amazed for yourself.

An honorable mention or two, before we get to the main event.

Who could forget the classic nimrods who stuck a f*cking monkey suit and a couple of raw steaks into an esky and called it "proof of Bigfoot"?

Sadly, Billy-Bob and Skeeter couldn't be here this evening, but we wish them all the best when they stick a pound of tuna into a bathtub and try to pass it off as the Loch Ness monster.

I was also impressed by the story that Prince Harry's stint in Afghanistan came to an abrupt end after news of his "secret" deployment leaked out. A big f*ckwit-thumbs-up to the British secret service on that one. James Bonds you ain't. Harry was then brought home "amid concerns for his safety".

Concerns for his safety? He was a serviceman in a F*CKING WAR ZONE.

Then there was fatty-Ronaldo, injured knee and all, "recuperating" back in Brazil by getting sprung with not one, not even TWO, BUT THREE transvestite prostitutes....and then trying to tell police that "...he was having some psychological problems linked to his injury." What, like understanding chicks don't have dicks?

I also enjoyed the farcical Commielympics, especially the opening ceremony and the revelation that the star of the show mimed her way through her performance, because the Comrade who really sang was too f*cking ugly to put on TV in front of the world. And the way in which the world's media and gubbmints lapped it all up.

Also a shout out to all the f*ckwits who thought the world would END when the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) was switched on. Especially the late f*ckwits who killed themselves IN ADVANCE to miss the rush. So......how'd that work out for you?

I have to say the runner-up really distinguished himself, too.

Ben Stein, where are you? Ben?

Actually I'm being told Ben's not here this evening, he's busy sitting in his fridge trying to discover if the light stays on or not. He's currently up to week 13 of the experiment. So far - inconclusive.

Ben would have made it to the finals in discussions for this award for his movie alone - that would be the unintentionally hilarious "Expelled" - a craptacular documentary that asserts that evolution is wrong and that there is a giant conspiracy wherein teachers are forced to teach evolution and persecuted if they disagree.

But here's the quote that really put Ben over the top:

"When we just saw that man, I think it was Mr. Myers [biologist P.Z. Myers], talking about how great scientists were, I was thinking to myself the last time any of my relatives saw scientists telling them what to do they were telling them to go to the showers to get gassed … that was horrifying beyond words, and that’s where science — in my opinion, this is just an opinion — that’s where science leads you."

Yes, Ben, that's all that science does for mankind.

It reminds me of Life of Brian - "What has the Roman Empire ever done for us?"

You're a magnificent f*ckwit, Ben, but even you couldn't scale the heights to which our winner ascended.

See, happily, every year some nimrod goes the extra fuckwit mile and distinguishes him or herself from the herd in a special way that causes The Chov to want to perform the f*cking HUNDRED HAND SLAP on their f*cking CORTEX.

So, without further ado, Chov's 2008 FUCKWIT OF THE YEAR Award goes to...

....drumroll while envelope is opened...

FIFA President Sepp Blatter!!!

"I'm thrilled to receive this award! Wait....I feel an idea coming on! No, wait, it's just a turtle-head poking out of my ass...."

I have festered on this one for quite a while.

And his dumb ideas about "slavery" and widening the goals and other stupid shit aren't really what won him this award. Although they helped.

No, it really came down to his nonsensical involvement in the Cristiano Ronaldo-to-Real Madrid transfer saga.

Basically, the snivelling little turd Ronaldo wanted a move, and his snivelling little turd of an agent worked everything out behind the scenes, only for Man Utd (his current club) to produce an *ahem* F*CKING CONTRACT and stick that up everyone's ass.

And so Real Madrid, scum of the earth that they are, did everything they could to stir the pot and agitate for a release.

Everyone and his f*cking dog knew they were in the wrong. United held firm. End of story, you would think.

But then the King of F*ckwits, Sepp Blatter, waded in.

And made some outrageously f*ckwitted comments that Ronaldo was a slave being held against his will and should be allowed to leave for Real Madrid.

And dismissed United's complaints to FIFA that Real Madrid had acted unprofessionally, unethically and illegally in continuing to pursue their player.

And f*ckwit sycophants like Les Murray tried to defend him and his comments.

But not The Chov....oh no.

This is the same Sepp Blatter who is a f*cking MEMBER OF REAL MADRID FOOTBALL CLUB.

Who has received AWARDS FROM THE CLUB FOR HIS SERVICES.

Who calls Real Madrid "more than a club" and has been a FAN since CHILDHOOD, when he said he used to ORGASM watching Alfredo di Stefano in the 1950s.

Okay maybe he didn't quite say that, but he did try to say he was only a fan of Real Madrid as a child.

But, as an adult football administrator, he changed a local Swiss club's constitution so that they would wear the same ALL-WHITE club strip as.....(do I need to even say it...?)

Sepp Blatter, The Chov's 2008 Sepp Blatter F*ckwit of the Year Award Winner, pretending to be Ferenc Puskas in the 1958 European Cup Final.

Well dress me in a pink tutu and call me Marilyn I think we may be onto something here...

Mr Blatter, you are a f*ckwit of the highest order. In fact, I am going to name my annual award after you.

Which means Sepp Blatter has been awarded The Chov's 2008 Sepp Blatter F*ckwit of the Year Award.

Bravo Sepp!!