Oh dear, what can the matter be? Little Owen’s no longer at the fair. Yes I know, cunters. It’s that man again, but I make no apologies for being unable to resist punting the ball into an open goal.
Spewing his usual bile in arsewipe comic ‘The Groaniad’ at the turn of the year, the shitweasel rants on that *gulp* ‘the Tories plan an assault on progressive Britain’! It seems that ‘for the Tory right, Brexit was a blunt instrument to remodel society in its own image… an authoritarian power grab beckons…assault on our institutions and human rights… Johnson’s refusal to apologise for his back catalogue of racism and homophobia… the far right threat against minorities and the left will heighten, the latter will be portrayed as a dangerous rabble…’ *burble blah*.
Be very afraid, cunters: Big Bad Boris the Bogey Man is coming to get us all! Er, not quite Owen. You’re experiencing what is known in psychiatric circles as ‘paranoid delusions’; in layman’s terms, you’ve flipped out, you’ve lost the plot. Take your meds, have a lie down, and ponder the reality of the situation. In December 2019, the electorate had a cold, hard look at what your loony left ‘dangerous rabble’ had to offer, and decided in their millions that they weren’t having it. You got your arses handed to you on a plate.
As far as you personally are concerned, more and more people are becoming sick and tired of the sight and sound of you, relentlessly gobbing off about your so-called ‘progressive’ agenda while sneering your right little know-all smirk. It’s hard for a self-regarding little cunt like you to grasp I know, but we just don’t like you. Now fuck off over there and for heaven’s sake shut up, there’s a good chap.
Nominated by Ron Knee


