Another festive themed post.

There are several personalities, and I use the term loosely, who should be making resolutions along the lines of ‘I’ll not be so bloody irritating in 2016.’ Here’s a random sample of my bêtes noir.

Kim Kardashian. Fatuous, fatheaded, and fat arsed. How can anybody who has her rear surgically enhanced at the demand of her husband (of whom more later) be taken as anything other than a vacuous bimbo? She’s famous for being famous, and yet mysteriously has over 37,000,000 Twitter followers. If people stopped following her, think of the workplace productivity increases that would result. With all those freed up man-hours you could make Tristan da Cunha a tiger economy.

Kanye West. I see with some delight he announced his intention to run for president next time round. I’m sure his misogynist violence will endear him to some voters in the US, but he’s going to be fresh out of luck in the Deep South because he’s not Aryan. Amusingly I’ve found that he doesn’t like Twitter much because he can’t follow himself. To get your head that far up your own arse is a real achievement. Also calling your children after compass points is the height of self indulgence.

Pippa Middleton. Just a bloody nuisance. Remember the book about organising Christmas parties she put out last year? The one that claimed that plastic knives and forks will reduce the need for washing up? That mugs or bowls will be needed if you intend to serve soup? Anyway, this idiot continues to get into the papers by the simple expedient of playing on being the Fragrant Catherine’s little sister and getting dragged along by her apron strings.

Gwyneth Paltrow. Oh dear. She’s a pretty good actress, even very good, but she won’t shut up. She pretty much singlehandedly foisted the phrase ‘conscious uncoupling’ on an unsuspecting and unwilling world when she and Chris Martin separated. She’s set herself up as a healthy living guru, extolling the virtues of various foodstuffs of questionable value. Her Goop website has some splendid suggestions for Christmas presents, many of which roll in at over ten grand a pop. And this may be a personal foible, but I find it hard to take seriously the views of any woman who has her vagina steam cleaned to improve the circulation.

Justin Bieber.

All of One Direction.

Keith Lemon.

I could go on all day. I’m sure you have your own names to add to the list. Please feel free to make suggestions.

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