Zoe Ball is an annoying cunt, isn’t she?

As soon as she’s blagged her way onto anything, she fucks it up: tv programmes, radio programmes, a DJ’s marriage.

Too much volume, not enough subtlety; too much bleach, not enough reality; too much ambition, not enough talent.

Little Miss Sunshine? She’s got more make-up and cosmetics than Boots Chemist.

This disingenuous harlot continually bangs on about Manchester fucking United as if she’s just alighted the bus near Stretford’s Old Toilet. Come off it sugartits, you live in Brighton! You love the ManUnited about as much as Pogba does!

“I wish I had a time machine” she said after her last boyfriend topped himself. As do we, love, so we can set it to return to The Bubonic Plague.

Dear old Johnny Ball was a superb presenter, so full of vigour and charm he made Maths and Science fun. What a shame he couldn’t have jizzed this over-ambitious, garrulous harpee into a sock.

Nominated by Captain Magnanimous

Zoe Ball has always annoyed me to the extreme, and since it is 8 years since she was cunted here (where curiously she got her two noms within 3 months of each other), it is high time to cunt this specimen, kicking and screaming, into 2017.

One of the more infuriating members of that whole 90’s TFI Friday/Priory Clinic ‘sleb crowd, she boils down to just another loud, vapid, talentless, shouty-cunty presenter in the same vein as Tess Daly, Cuntia Winkleman, Clare Balding etc etc. However, this well-worn slag has additional cuntitude by virtue of her being a home-wrecking drunken cunt who would rather spend her late forties dragging her grotesquely distended minge around London nightclubs than being a mother.

Her outpouring of woe for her recently-deceased latest squeeze – after knowing him for all of twenty minutes – rounded off what a colossal cunt she is.

Side-cunting for Johnny Ball for giving birth to such an omnicunt as Zoe.

Nominated by The Empire Cunts Back