Son of a Greek immigrant, Charlie is too thick to know he’s thick and yet he has elevated cuntitude to an art form. He has trumped his father’s one brain cell by having none. He has developed his speech impediment so well that only his tomato plants can understand a word he says (which is a blessing). He would have us all back as mediaeval peasants living wattle and daub hovels and on a diet of free-range turnips. He even genuinely thinks that his ginger son is the product of his own loins, when the young cunt is the spit of his real father. But, finally, would anyone but a 24 carat, cunt want to crawl over the drop-dead gorgeous Diana to poke horse-faced Camilla? I rest my case.
The cunt reckons that being the king over us plebs is like being in prison. Well, Charlie, why don’t you fuck off to a real prison? Instead of raking in £19 million a year from taxpayers and assorted peasants, you would only cost £40,000; a saving of £18,960,000 a fucking year.
Nominated by: Bolton Boy