Dr. Pope hates fat people
I hate fat people. This may seem rather hypocritical given that I am clinically obese and have eaten more than my fair share of ham sandwiches at funerals, but it is the truth. I would like to believe the women you see on Jeremy Kyle and other daytime tv when they say they are bloated due to water retention. I would like to believe that 33st teenage girls have tried every diet going but only manage to put on more weight. The fact is, if they stopped eating (and talking) shit and forced more of it out of their cheeks then they might actually get somewhere. Take for example Chris Leppard – he is a 25 year old man who weighs in at 40st. He claims to suffer from Prader-Willi syndrome which means he has an excessive appetite. Bullshit. He used to eat on average 9,000 calories a day, and illness or not, you would have thought that after the 10th Ginsters slice of the day and as he went past 30st something may have clicked that he wasn’t actually hungry. Now he is accusing Hastings Council of being mean, by not providing him with a property with a bigger front door, so he can go out for a jog. Forgive me for being a touch sceptical here but I can’t really imagine a 40st man going out for a jog, not least because it is a heart attack waiting to happen, but perhaps more importantly, they would come face to face with a sweet shop and no doubt liberate all of the Topic bars. Just be honest with yourselves, you’re fat and it is your fault. Stop eating cake and you might get somewhere you lardy bastard.
I also hate anorexic people. Self pitying, alien creatures. Fucking eat something and you will feel better. Mind you, Allegra Versace would remain as attractive as a cyst on the scrotum of a buffalo even if she did eat beans on toast on a regular basis.
I hate my girlfriend. This may not seem all that rational given that we have bought a house together, live happily ever after and is probably the sole reason why I am not angry enough to write a regular column, but I hate her all the same. How the fuck have I ended up with a bird who bought The Fray album? With someone who bought the Best of The Who because she likes to sing along at the start of CSI? With someone who turns off TalkSport when I am cooking so that she can put on 'Iris' by the Goo Goo Dolls. And I was stupid enough to buy a house with her and straddle myself with 25 years of mortgage? And give up my favourite pastime of eating kebabs? I swear she must have been dropping rohypnol into my Weetabix. Now she has decided that we want a cat. All I can think of is how Tommy died in Trainspotting.
I hate Bob Woolmer and I am glad he is dead. Just look at his hair
I hate Coronation Street . Do I really give a crap about an ugly bunch of working class Northerners? Has Deidrie Barlow had more husbands than Liam has had wanks yet?
I really fucking hate The Fray. I had to listen to those cunts most of the way round my recent journey to Cornwall , up to Yorkshire and then back down South. I would have preferred to have had my sack lathed for a few hours.
I hate ugly fat chain smoking, sell your story to The Sun, can’t read a map properly sailor birds. No wonder the Iranians made her wear a face scarf.
I hate The Simpsons. Why does anybody give a shit about a bunch of spastics who have turned jaundiced because of bowel cancer. Mind you, that Maggie is a fine piece of ass.
Did I mention The Fray?
I hate teaching unions. Miserable cunts. I can’t blame them for trying to get a bit more cash for teach the scum of the earth kids that stab the hell out of each other, but when Chris Keates of NASUWT tells me that Life on Mars could be responsible for a rise in Homophobia because Gene Hunt called someone a ‘fairy boy’ my patience runs thin. Meanwhile Steve Sinnott of NUT complains that children are overexposed to alcohol if they support Everton, because their shirt is sponsored by Chang Beer, while Liverpool are sponsored by Carlsberg, and they could meet in the Carling Cup. Perhaps the teachers of the land would be better off teaching kids that middle aged men who don’t like football bat for the other side and are the reason for needing a Megan’s law. Especially if they are called Steve. And have two chins.
And if I have to hear 'How to Save a Life' one more time, I may take it upon myself to learn How to End a Life. By means of inserting a giant gnome up a Fairy Boy’s love hole.
