Samantha Brick: Not Deluded At All

Sitting alone in a branch of KFC, I was getting stuck into a Zinger Tower meal when a homeless bum came up to me and asked me for a kiss. I stared at his toothless mouth in pity and declined, after which his said, ‘Fuck you, you slag’ and walked off. Many people would be flattered by such an exchange, but not me- I’m used to men giving me attention because I’m just so darn gorgeous.

It seems that the fucking thicko right wing Daily Mail reading population entire world has been left reeling after Samantha Brick spoke out about the affliction of beauty here, citing her looks as the reason she has been victimised, ostracised and outcasted by female colleagues, ‘friends’ and acquaintances. Her article paints a picture of an exceptionally beautiful woman (until you scroll down to the pictures, and she’s actually an average-looking woman with a superiority complex, but then again, I’m probably just bitterly envious) whose looks are the reason she has faced hardship in her personal and professional life, provoking jealousy with less asthetically pleasing females. Look at how beautiful she is:

Yeah, so, she just must take a bad picture or something. Or else, if you are female, your eyes disallow you from seeing how gorgeous she is. She’s definately not totally fuckwitted.

However, I am inclined to agree with Samantha; I have had a similar experience myself. I, too, overestimate my beauty- deluding myself that men fall at my feet and women hate me because they are threatened, when in reality, it is because I am up my own arse and a general nasty bitch.

Samantha’s article cites a myriad of experiences in which men have thanked her for being so beautiful by paying her way. She is not a prostitute. At all. I can verify that yes, men do this. She is not detached from reality and did not create this in her crazy little mind.

Sometimes I ask strangers for a cigarette, and they just hand me one. Probably because my nicotine-stained smile makes their day. Once, on a Ryanair flight to Leeds Bradford, an air steward gave me a packet of salt and vinegar Frisps for free, just because they were ”going off”. If that isn’t code for ‘I love you’, I don’t know what is. And on top of that, sometimes I check my bank account to find that someone has deposited money into my account on a weekly basis, probably to thank me for living. Ok, so, it’s my wages, but the person who authorises the transaction has a 50% chance of being male. Men just shower me with money!

But unfortunately, it’s not all gravy. Women fucking loathe me, probably because they can’t handle how stunning I am, in addition to having a winning personality and not being at all deluded. Definately not because I’m an elitest bitch. Only a few weeks ago, my neighbour walked past me without even so much as a ‘hello’. I consulted a mutual friend who suggest that her reaction may have been spurred on by the fact that I set her dog on fire and slept with her husband, but I think it’s that she’s just jealous of me because I’m thinner than her. This is not insulting to women at all. Samantha represents women in an honest light, and doesn’t give men one more reason to think women are nothing more than a pack of shallow, scrapping shrews. She is also good looking enough to justify writing such an article. Yes.

Now Samantha can’t wait to get old, as ageing will dilute her beauty and allow her to make friends and live ‘normally‘. She must be getting a fucking personality transplant too, then.

Beauty is such a curse.

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