Monkey Magic

That guy, with the wee simian mug, full of aggression where there would normally be intelligence. I don't even know him, but I know that I hate him and he hates me back. If those eyes were any closer together he'd only need a single socket. He's the kind of guy who'd stab you if you asked him a tough question.

He's doing the crossword in The Star and asks his buddy, "How do you spell carol? Like Christmas carol. Is it two Rs or two Ls?" Imbecile. I know that you might argue that I should be patient and understanding, perhaps he didn't get a privileged start in life. Fuck off. I listened at school while apes like him swung from the light fixtures, and you want me to pity him? Call a social worker.