Thank for taking time-out from extracting multicolored mucos from your bulbous nasal cavity and filling-in the Insult form feilds, you monotonous non-entity and excrement manufacturing machine. You couldn’t get a date if you bought them dried in a tin, you under-medicated, rump-ruptured chronic self-abuser. You’re the kind of greasy, giggling, girly gombeen who buys STDs from a viral lab just to make it look like you get laid. Who the hell told you that you are attractive? Mr. Magoo? You’re the kind pathological liar who even lies to an insult generator. All left-wingers are chronic alcoholics who molest small animals, masturbate behind bushes, and wear fish-net tights while singing Elton John songs. You four-eyed, cerebrally-deluded, Einstein-impersonating, pseudo-intellectual nerdturd with a head full of misfiring synapses. Like your height, everything about you is average; except your stench – which is overwhelming. Your weight may well be proportional, but you’ve got cellulite that makes sumo wrestlers look anorexic. Get a job, you goddamn leach! You’re as useful as a handbrake on a canoe, you clog-hopping simpleton. I love that jacket you’re wearing. It’s obvious you shop at only the finest garage sales. Now, my little ankle-humping hermit, do me a favour and get your foot stook on a busy train track.