I hate running so much that I’m giving serious consideration to sawing both of my legs off, crawling over to the man who invented running and clubbing him to death with them while I shout “LOOK AT WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!” right into his face.
Not being able to grow a beard as good as George Clooney’s is roughly as painful as childbirth, periods, legwaxing and repeatedly hitting your head on the glass ceiling combined.
Being a LAD basically means being a superlad; that where once you could have read Loaded and been partly shielded by the veneer of irony, now you just swan around with your top off outside Wetherspoons, shouting “UNK! TITS!” at people and then stabbing someone.
Your columns and posts and comments and tweets are adding to all the white noise on the internet, as is this post. The one you're reading right now. It’s half-baked and reactionary and utterly without merit. It’s just the latest turd on the pile.