C/O Ziffren, Brittenham, Branca, Fischer, Gilbert-Lurie, Stiffelman, Cook, Johnson, Lande & Wolf LLP, Attorneys at Law, Los Angeles, CA 90067
I don’t mean to be rude, but… wait a minute. I do mean to be rude. You narcissistic son of a bitch. You limelight-stealing lump of putrescence. You no-talent, un-witty person who’s only decent impression is of a man with no talent. You ignorant slut. You are as funny as an arrow through the neck with a tax form tied to it. In short, you suck.
Why, you may ask, am I giving you the Job treatment? Well, I was flipping through a discarded paper at Heathrow earlier, and imagine My shock when I read that you are more famous than Me. That absolutely takes the biscuit. It was bad enough that The Queen beat Me last year, but at least I always know that she’s only Queen by the grace of Me. You, I’ve got no connection to.
Perhaps the way to deal with this is to smite every British child under 10 who voted for you. You thought that “first born child” thing in Egypt was messy? You ain’t seen nothing yet; and this time there won’t be any of that namby-pamby skipping houses crap. I’m leaning toward terminal dysentery, unless I can think of something nastier. One thing’s for sure. You can bet your last crumpet I’ll make sure they know it was you who did it to them.
Almost as bad as that, now some people are thinking of reasons why you’re “better” than Me.
I’m so mad I could spit plasma! A guy who would bring a mirror to a dessert island! A guy who thinks a black t-shirt is the height of fashion! It could only be worse if Trump had beat Me! Who picked these judges, anyway?
Look, Cowell, I’m catching a flight to New Zealand in a couple of hours for the yearly Running of the Kiwis. When I get back, the first thing I want to read in the paper is that you have rejected this award in favor of Me. If not, so help Me Me, I will turn every person you know into Sanjaya.
Wish You Were Here,