ANGRY BIRD
Our resident angry bird, Michelle Harris couldn't get any angrier as she takes on Katie Hopkins
Acid-tongued attention-seeker Katie Hopkins had a busy week last week, even for her. She managed to offend Pakistanis, make a Holocaust joke at the expense of Ed Milliband’s wife, call Angelina Jolie ‘smug’ for having cancer scare surgery, and basically state that depression didn’t exist. However, her claim that she will leave the UK if Labour win the election has possibly put the final nail in the Conservative coffin, so for that I salute her. (I salute her as she fucks off to distant lands to start a new life of bitchery with her long-suffering husband and undoubtedly miserable children, but you know, credit where it’s due.)
Can someone please explain to me why this sour-faced professional shit-stirrer is given the time of day by anyone, let alone why she has in excess of half a million followers on Twitter? Personally, I couldn’t give a crap about her opinion. About anything. It only irks me that she is given such an audience for her ill-informed babblings.
Who cares if she thinks stay-at-home mums are lazy? She has no idea what it takes to be a mother, stay-at-home, working or otherwise; her kids were dispatched to the nannies within seconds of the placenta delivery. Excuse me if I don’t rate the parenting acumen of a woman who sends her staff to every sports day and school play because “it’s boring”, and who publically labeled her own daughters ugly. Whose problem is it that Katie thinks breast-feeding in public is nasty? The only nipples she gets a say on are her own, and frankly her tits are looking about as droopy as her attitude these days.
She thrives on the reaction; don’t give her one and she’s beaten. It’s not like she has anything else to offer the world; this horse-faced one trick pony does a line in insults, and nothing else. Her gleeful retweets of the outraged reactions to the bilge she vomits out on social media on an hourly basis expose her desperation: “Look at me! Notice me! I’m still here! Coooo-eeeeee”. Shut your pie hole love, it’s embarrassing.
Her faux-plummy accent and uber-upper-class snobbery are all self-created. She was born in Devon. Noone from Devon talks like that. She might try to pretend that she’s together, erudite and sophisticated, but this woman was snapped by a tabloid photographer shagging her then-married-to-someone-else lover, now her husband, in a cowpat ridden field. Stay classy, Grotkins.
She is a reality-tv whore, a tabloid fame-seeking empathy-void parading her poor children around like sad-faced pawns in her bid for any attention, however negative, about anything. If she wasn’t spouting her twattery on tv and in print she’d be out on the street kicking puppies and swearing at children.
The only conclusion I can come to in explanation of the continued existence of this gargoyle in the public consciousness is that people like to be outraged. They need a pantomime villain, and this ugly sister fits the bill. I’m pretty sure that the likes of Princess Angelina don’t give a shit what this evil little nobody thinks of her and will continue to live her happy ever after shagging Brad Pitt in a castle filled with multi-hued children. If only all of Hopkins’ targets could brush her off so easily. Then she might just disappear.
Remember, people: do not feed the troll. Vote Ed. Choose a Hopkins-free Britain. You owe it to the overweight, the foreign, the poor, the poorly named, the cancer-ridden, the depressed, and the Jewish. You know it makes sense. Let’s get her gone.