An ode to those Horny Bitches!

Oh yes indeed, I can see all of you ickle slag-bags and gang-bangers (you know what I mean ;] ) sittin’ in front of the tele or the PC or whatever it is that floats your boat, wankin’ off with some herpie-infected plastic bottle to none other than Russell Brand.

[The automatic spell checker's trying to persuade me that 'herpie' doesn't exist, and it's instead 'her pie'. Would I want her fucking pie on a plastic bottle? What the fuck?]

Yes, he is a fuckin’ sexy bloke. Don’t bloody lie, everyone sees you droolin’ over his outlined figure depicted by those oh-so-tight skinny jeans and wow, man-booty on a pedestal with those Beatle-boots. Don’t start me on his hair, I mean fuck ’scene hair’, this God walks around with bloomin’ SEX HAIR. Yes that’s right, we’ve all had it.

Up at 6, gettin’ dressed to rush home before Mum & Dad wake up, lookin’ in his sperm-splattered mirror to find your unruly hair poking up like a bloody porcupine. But DAMN, does he make it look good.

Not to forget that tucked in shirt he rocks with it halfway unbuttoned, with the chains and danglies mashing together with ripe chest hair at the perfect length. Oh yeah, we like that!

Add all of that sex appeal together with his generously vulgar and derogatory funny-man-ness, we get the fuckin’ male bombshell we’ve all been lusting for since chas-titty (forgive the pun) belts were invented.

Oh yes, indeed, no rhubarb at all!
And I say, if you don’t fuckin’ know who the fuck Russell Brand is, go youtube him, luv. It’ll be the best thing you’ve ever or never done in your life, I say!