‘Gay cure’ therapy is OK says this hatchet-faced, God-bothering nut-job. Yes, of course it’s Ann Widdecombe

Oh, what a lovely face to wake up to!

This, gentle readers, is Ann Widdecombe. Ann Widdecombe was once a right-wing MP who advocated the persecution of gays at every turn. She has never been a big lover of the gays, has Ann. She’s a big lover of Jesus. The feeling, unfortunately, is not mutual. As that face is testimony.

Anyways and hoos, a gay journalist posing as an unhappy gay, went to a psychotherapist called Lesley Pilkington for ‘conversion therapy’ in order to stop being a dirty gay. Lesley Pilkington is not only a psychotherapist, she is also a Christian. Which seems like a contradiction in terms but, hey, it happens.

The Royal College of Psychiatrists says of ‘conversion therapy’: ‘There is no sound scientific evidence that sexual orientation can be changed. Furthermore, so-called treatments of homosexuality create a setting in which prejudice and discrimination flourish.’ For this reason, its members are banned from trying it.

But that was never likely to stand in the way of an upstanding, Pope-licking Catholic like Pilkington. Oh, no. Which is why she is now facing a ban. You break the rules, you face the consequences. We thought religiouses and right-wingers were hip to that sort of thing.

Not Ms. Widdecombe. ‘Let us be clear about this,’ said Widdecombe, using the phrase that all Tories are contractually obliged to use at the beginning of every sentence. ‘Ms Pilkington did not approach him: he approached her and because she thought he really wanted help and tried to give it she now faces being barred from practising.

‘The real effect, as Mr Strudwick presumably wants, is to deter anybody from helping any homosexuals who would prefer to marry and father or bear children.’

Word up, missus: all gays can marry and can father children. It’s called ‘being male’. Gay men are, largely, male. They can do those things.

‘He would rather they suffered because he is arrogant enough to believe that everybody should be happy with what makes him happy,’ she continued.

We refer Ms. Widdecombe to the Royal College of Psychiatrists and what they had to say on the matter: ‘It doesn’t bloody work and is harmful.’ But, as we all know, there’s no talking to Christians.

Anne Widdecombe, the homophobic Tory God-fearing fame-whore, might be joining the Strictly Come Dancing judging panel.

Anne Widdecombe

Anne Widdecombe – who is not only a moron who Jesus absolutely fucking doesn’t want for a sunbeam, but an utter cunt who dresses like the village idiot in Lark Rise To Candleford to boot (emphasis on the boot) – is rumoured to be replacing Alesha Dixon on the judging panel of Strictly Come On My Tits, the family-friendly dancing show.

Anne Widdecombe, who defies all natural law by being even uglier on the inside than she is on the outside – and that is some ugly mother fucker, the kind that sterilises dogs with one glance – is thought to be a natural choice for judging the light entertainment show about dancing. In spite of the fact that she doesn’t have legs so much as Barratt houses.

If chosen for the Strictly Cometh The Dance judging panel, Anne Widdecombe – who, despite looking like a dog has never been fucked. Not even had a Fab lolly stuck up her! – will be sandwiched between two real life homosexuals.

‘Widdecombe can’t dance but she is funny, direct and the viewers loved her,’ reports the Evening Standard’s mole, who is not thought to be related to Cindy Crawford’s mole. Not even by marriage.

‘The viewers’ is thought to include not only us, but you. We found her – find her – so repellent that the last time we¬†inadvertently stumbled across her on our Telly V box, our warming glass of milk turned into Epoisses cheese. Just like that!

Now let’s look at Anne Widdecombe on a train.

And this year’s vile Tory show-off on Strictly is… Edwina Currie

She may not be the fetid, god-bothering homophobe (TM) that is Anne Widdecombe, but we still don’t want to see this. Do we? No, do we? No, we don’t.

The European Map o’ Cuntiness

rainbow europe map 2011

This is a map showing who’s cunty and who’s not so cunty to the gays in London’s glittering Europe. We – Her Majesty’s UK – are rather lovely. The loveliest of them all, in fact. Those wily Easties with their block-voting and aversion to natural fabrics are very cunty. As is the Pope and his big ‘mo crew. And seeing as we’re at it, as is Anne Widdecombe and her permanently police taped-off vagina, and as is Gok Wan. Fierce? No.

Cher, Liza AND Barbra up for Worst Actress awards! Do we detect the hand of Baroness Warsi at work?

It can surely be no coincidence that three of the greatest gay icons of yesteryear – Cher (please give this picture a moment: it’s some of her finest work!), Liza and Barbra have all received nominations for Razzies, or Worst Actress Awards.

We suspect the religious right, the ghost of Sonny Bono, the hair of David Gest, Baroness Warsi, Anne Widdecombe, Diana Ross and all full-fat cheeses. What other reason could there possibly be?

Oh, and you try and find a picture of the three divas together… Not even face down in their own muck down at Studio 54. Do you think it’s like the Royal Family, where you can’t risk too many in one place or something?

Also nommed are Jack Black, Sex and the City, anything to do with Twilight, Miley Cyrus, Billy Ray Cyrus and Jennifer Aniston.

If Justin Bieber isn’t a lesbian, what’s the point of him?

Justin Bieber Vanity Fair

Justin Bieber, the singing mister-sister with shiny Northern hair and Brillo Pad eyebrows and a growth hormone deficit (we can’t scare the 11-year-old girls, right?) is shit.

You had no idea where we were going with that, did you? We surprise ourselves.

He’s also an arrogant shit. An arrogant little shit. An arrogant little shit with hair that works our reserve nerve, which is already on the brink after accidentally stumbling across Kylie’s performance on Jools Holland’s New Year’s Eve Hogmanay Night Before Christmas My Old Joanna Eggstravaganza whilst researching the phenomenon of delusion.

Evidence of Justin Bieber’s arrogance is splattered all across the latest Vanity Fair, which also has him on the cover covered in kisses in several shades of crazy. A cover idea so startling in its genius its little wonder Vanity Fair is what it is.

‘Not trying to be arrogant,’ says Justin, ‘but if I walked down the street and a girl saw me, she might take a look back because maybe I’m good-looking, right?’

No, it’s because they think you’re Madeleine McCann.

‘I’m not normal,’ he-she continues. ‘I think differently. My mind is always racing. I’m just… nuts. But I think the best (musicians) probably are.’

‘I’m influenced by Boyz II Men.’

Jesus fucking Christ.

Oh, and before anyone says, ‘He’s 16. Of course he’s arrogant’: Sixteen-year-olds are far too busy sticking Fab lollies up gentlemen’s behinds and experimenting with ADD prescription medicines and measuring each other’s penises and happy-slapping Anne Widdecombes on buses and reading the entire works of Thomas Hardy and nurturing a life-long loyalty to no more than three brands of cosmetics and coming over all Lolita with the married guy across the street to ever be arrogant.

Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with famouses these days?

‘I might indeed be remembered more for my dancing than my political career’

By which she means, of course, ‘Maybe by making a total dingbat of myself on’t telly of a Saturday night, no one will remember what a nasty, self-serving, homophobic, far-right cunt I was.’

Don’t worry love. We’ll always remember you for your finest work.

‘He’s dangerously close to sporting a comb-over’

David Beckham going bald, apparently

Says a Daily Hate ‘spy’.

Oh schplease. That’s like saying Anne Widdecombe is dangerously close to being attractive/fuckable/pleasant/human.