Everyone was saddened by the death of Terry Nutkins a couple of weeks ago, so we take a look at a bunch of celebrities that in an ideal world would have bitten the bullet before him but unfortunately are still around annoying us.
As the title suggests, Terry Nutkins is dead. You’ll know this if you were anywhere near Facebook or Twitter a couple of weeks ago, because every moron who was born in the 80’s decided they needed to pay respects by writing “TERRY NUTKINZ IZ DED I CANNOT BELEIVE IT HE WAZ PART OV MY CHILDHOOD AND NOW I IZ SAD” all over every social platform. Indeed it’s a fair sentiment. Terry seemed like a decent chap. He loved animals. So much so that when he was only 15 years old, he lost a couple of fingers inside a salacious female otter. That aside, he presented numerous wildlife shows whilst still having the time to spawn eight offspring (Nutkins’ nut kin) and maintain an image that can only be described as ‘Bobby Charlton Meth Tribe.’ Anyway, I don’t mean to insult the dead. Big T was much loved across our nation, unlike a whole plethora of celebs that should’ve met a grizzly end by now. So I’ve taken it upon myself to fabricate a list of eight celebs that should’ve kicked the bucket before Terry Nutkins. No need to thank me if my powers of verbal voodoo spark a celeb-o-cide over night. Enjoy and feel free to make up your own, it’s fun.
A lot of you may be thinking what old BJ has done to deserve to be in this list. Well so far, not much. Other than the fact that a lot of our nation are rejoicing in his bumbling idiocy, such as when he got stuck on a zip wire during the Olympics and have fallen foul of his slick PR campaign. I’m not overtly political, I once got a semi whilst looking at a picture of Michelle Obama, but I’m pretty sure I was thinking about the second mum from the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Oh yes, Boris. What you’re forgetting is that he’s a fat Tory cunt, cut from the same cloth as Thatcher. It may just be conjecture but I heard that the Aryan Boris was actually born in Stuttgart in 1913, was cryogenically frozen by a certain chap called Adolf, and was reanimated when the Tories had a lean spell in the 90s. Floppy straight blonde hair? Blue eyes? Let’s all hope he dies soon, before Britain’s ‘Albino Hitler’ becomes herr apparent.
Going down on Janet Street-Porter would be like licking a goblin made from mackerel and felt. That’s not reason enough to kill her, but maybe an interesting side-note that has seen her go from working for The Daily Mail to being one of the Loose Women. I suppose that’s like moving on from eating shit to drinking a milkshake made from the same substance. Back in 2010, Janet famously said that depression was a “trendy illness” and that’s bollocks because every time I hear her horsey cackle, I’m so depressed that I contemplate suicide, and I’m still wearing baggy jeans and listening to Oxide and Neutrino. Anyway, she’s a pointless human, full of horrid vacuous opinions and to be honest it’d be much better to go down on Lynda Bellingham, as she keeps a whole box of Milk Tray in her pussy.
You can’t go five minutes watching TV before John Barrowman’s fake plastic smile is draped all over your TV set. He’s one of those cunts that’s keen to have a go at everything. ‘Look at me world, I can sing, act, dance, write, present and can even sculpt this courgette into a working model of the Titanic.’ You know the kind of cunt, right? No real discernible talent, just a little bit good at everything. A John of all trades. He’s also Scottish-American, which is also known as ‘Scamerican’ and testament to the falseness engrained in the permanent beam adorning his laughing gear. John was the main character in Torchwood, which was a spin-off and anagram of ‘Doctor Who.’ John Barrowman is also an anagram of ‘John Man Barrow’, which is his favourite sexual position.
Where do I start with Noel Edmonds? Maybe the video below where he is laughing at the disabled child before quickly changing the subject. Just the type of thing that Noel (anagram of cunt) would do. He’s the type of guy that rocks up to a fuel station and complains at the attendant when there aren’t any latex gloves by the fuel pumps. Not so he can fill up his car but so he can wank in the nearest bin, which is apt because an actual anagram of his name is ‘old semen don.’ Anyway, bullshit aside, Noel is a Grade A jumped up garden gnome. Cockier than Danny Dyer on a coke binge, Noel took great pleasure (allegedly) starting up House Party theme parks in the 90’s and then pulling out when the going got tough, and using his lawyers to shit all over his less financially secure partners. He’s also into spirituality which makes him some kind of faux-hippy cunt, and probably walks round his house with his dressing gown open with a joss-stick jabbed in his pecker. He’s also keen on roll-neck sweaters, which is not a strong look as it makes it look like a mouldy piece of shit is trying to escape from a unkempt arsehole. The only 24 red boxes I want to see on the telly, are the vaginas in the Ginger Miss World competition. Fvck off and die, please.
Jedward are so fvcking stupid that when they both got their first pair of Converse shoes, they thought they could talk to them. Every time I hear the phrase “I’m John and he’s Edward,” I wish I had a time machine, so I could go back in time and run their mother a very hot bath and get her a large bottle of cheap scotch. In fact I doubt they even had a willing mother. I reckon Louis Walsh jizzed in a test tube, and it was randomly inserted inside some poor woman. Probably in her anus. In fact, I’d go so far to say that Jedward were the first ever twins to be carried for 9 months in an anus. It’s a little too close to a Father Ted episode to be real isn’t it? Don’t they remind you of Eoin McLove? And then there’s the whole Eurovision thing, where Ireland are fed up of winning so they enter two idiots into it. A lot of you may be thinking, ‘well they’re harmless, leave them alone.’ Smegma is mostly harmless, until it gets all infected and you have to cut your dick off. If anyone does have a time machine, gimme a shout, I’ve got the whiskey and bubble bath waiting.
The sound of Fearne Cotton’s voice on the radio is more annoying than scratching acrylic nails down a chalk board whilst Scouting For Girls do an acoustic medley of their hits. I don’t know how the fvck she got pregnant, if I was going out with her, I’d only fvck her mouth to stop her from talking so much. It’s like the joke goes, ‘How many Radio One presenters does it take to change a lightbulb? None, because they’re also too busy talking about themselves.’ I listened to Radio One the other day and they spent half an hour taking about how shiny the foil bit on a Kit-Kat wrapper is. I feel a bit harsh killing off Fearne when she’s got a tiny ickle lickle pickle inside of her BUT check this out. What if Louis Walsh went back in time from 2036 and impregnated Fearne’s anus with his test tube of sploob, and she gave birth to Jedward, and he then kidnaps them and takes them back to the early ’90s where they’re brought up in Ireland? THIS IS ALL POSSIBLE. You heard it here first: Fearne Cotton is Jedward’s mother.
I’ve been struggling where to start with Piers Morgan. Basically Piers Morgan is a twat. How can one man be so smug? Let’s start with the facts. Piers’ mother was an owl and his dad was a pork pie. They unfortunately recreated Piers who only ate foie gras and cucumber when he was child, which along with being a hermaphrodite made him feel different to all the other kids, and somewhat better. He had both organs to utilise. One to keep his money in and one to stick in peoples’ letterboxes. As he got older, Piers decided he’d get his own back on the world by being the biggest jumped-up quadruple cunt he could be. A man so smug, that when he smiles, bridges collapse and wars start. The things that offend me about Piers are as follows. He’s got four kids, so that means he’s had sex at least four times. Imagine his sex-face as he triumphantly exclaims, “Darling, the boys have left the barracks, the major is standing to attention and swimming units have been deployed. Imminent seminal osmosis is in order!” Cunt. Secondly (and allegedly), he’s got away with this phone-hacking scandal thus far. I bet the cunt made the calls. Thirdly, his interviewing technique is nothing short of cringeworthy. Did you see him humiliate Gazza? Shameful exploitation of a broken man. Last but not least, earlier in the year there was a show on about homosexuality in football and that fact that players are too scared to come out. Rio Ferdinand tweeted asking people if they’d watched it, and Morgan replied “Out you come, Sicknote.” A tasteless response to a show that was trying to rationalise a taboo subject. You can imagine his pleased little face, as his fat fingers typed that response, with his public-schoolboy humour emblazoned all over it, fingers all sticky from fingering someone else’s wife (or maybe Terry’s otter). I think that sums up the man nicely. A talentless prick that has used his PR skills to annoy and offend his way to the top. Let’s cut off the oxygen of publicity, and never mention the cunt again. Deal?