500 words exactly…
It’s been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to look at a picture like yours evoking such emotions from deep within me.
The first thing that strikes me as I gaze at your picture, the feelings which awoke deep from within me, was your gargoyle-like face with distorted and disjointed features so gently decorated with a pair of glasses that wouldn’t look out of place on a dead dog – and since neither living nor dead dogs actually wear glasses – rest assured, the look is not a good one. Your makeup would make the worst embalmer cry.
Your badly fitting shirt seems incapable and uninterested in containing any of the ripples on your flabby, overgrown belly or misshapen under-developed breasts (which appear to be growing from under your arms rather than your chest).
Incredibly, from the photo, I can actually hear the belt around the top of your car-boot-sale jeans screaming to be released or perhaps it’s just the screeching of the leatherette as it stretches beyond recognition around your ample, child-bearing hips.
But I must be fair with you, on a much more positive note; your beaming smile ignites wonderful memories of long summer evenings adorned with the squeals of joy which accompany a pack of drunken Chavs gang raping a stray animal.
Even more remarkable about your picture is the ability to see your future in your eyes (even through your fish bowl glasses). Clearly you will have the world at your feet the moment you reach the top of the council housing list. Should you be lucky enough to find someone to actually be in the same room let alone touch you, your 12 illegitimate from 13 different fathers will no doubt place you in a social class so low, and so depraved that even the flies, rats and cockroaches will avoid you.
I must be honest with you. You are an animal. You are ugly, shapeless, plain. You portray yourself to be even more stupid than you look and it can never be stressed enough – you really are ugly, ugly and ugly. You no doubt are and always will be on the dregs of society. You will be treated worse than sewage waste – and that really is too good for you. Ants wouldn’t even crawl over you should they come across you lying in the gutter having filled yourself up on curries, kebabs and Tesco value ale. You are lower than ant piss. Should you try to sell your soul to the devil, he will be first in the queue at customer services seeking a full refund and an apology.
If I cared about you enough, I would definitely suggest suicide. But why should you be given the opportunity to waste the time of those that would need to break a sweat to scrape you off the gutter. At least alive you will be able to provide those around you as a figure to be laughed at and humiliated. Yes Tina, you are a disgrace.
