Toddler. Whiner. Garbler. Leaking gas bag. Pudgy sack of decaying McDonald’s patties. Piggedy-eyed lumpen mole rat. Small-fingered sniggering gotcha guy. The worst. (No, there’s more.) Mewling beef-witted mushfungus. That blob of goo floating in the storm sewers. (Not a fuckwit – he’s not worth the fuck, nor deserving of wit.) A rotting vain pompion braying nonsense. Worth nothing, whatsoever.
365/radical elements 
I think you should start a business that makes “greeting” cards to send to that-blob-of-glue-floating-in-the-storm-sewer-like people… you have such a way with words.
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Oh, this is the best. I want to share it, but I’m too scared to do so!
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I feel like toddlers are good. Unlike this dirt-bag.
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Perfect! (Oddly, I’d been thinking of writing something along these lines, but now I don’t have to!)
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