Each week we’ll be asking a carefully selected guest (who is definitely not the first person we can find who’ll agree to do it) to predict the outcome of the next round of Arsehole Premier League matches.
This week, cartoonist and illustrator Doc Hackenbush runs through the weekend’s fixtures
Phillip Hammond vs. Toby Young
Even taking into account Toby’s position as one of the country’s leading arseholes, he has had some tough match ups this season, having been pitted against Iain Duncan Smith, a man so utterly devoid of human empathy he failed the Turing Test on six successive occasions, and Boris “Total Ledge, LOL” Johnson, still on a roll after the triple-whammy of spearheading a Brexit campaign he hadn’t prepared to win, his hilariously doomed leadership bid and his subsequent inexplicable appointment as foreign secretary. Despite these previous thrashings, I’m confident the Toadmeister (nope, still can’t say it out loud without cringing my skin off) can finally pull off a win by virtue of being up against Phillip Hammond, who despite apparently being chancellor of the exchequer, nobody really knows who he is and therefore might scrape up some leftover goodwill left lying around by people who ‘used to really like him when he was on Top Gear’. Hammond hasn’t been in his job long enough to engender the kind of white-hot hatred his predecessor was showered with on a regular basis, and this is where Young should capitalise if he really wants to bring home the win.
Hammond 38% Young 62%
Rupert Murdoch vs. Katie Hopkins
You have to hand it to Katie Hopkins, in just a few short years she managed to go from being a toxic, hate-fuelled sack of human garbage on a reality TV show, to being a toxic, hatefuelled sack of human garbage with a national newspaper column, pausing briefly to be a toxic, hate-fuelled sack of human garbage who ate a kangaroo’s anus on a reality TV show. You can’t say she isn’t multi-faceted. Katie, who list her hobbies as ‘kitten mangling’, ‘stubbing lit cigarettes out on toddlers faces’ and ‘birthing opinion turds from her face-anus for money’ is the sort of person for whom empathy is a place where Chris Eubank goes to sort out his visa application before travelling abroad. Her commitment to shittiness is such that when some US states ran out of the chemical cocktails used to perform lethal injections, she volunteered to personally travel to America and execute the prisoners herself by unhooking her jaw and devouring them whole like some unholy python made of pure spite. And yet…
Her opponent is Rupert fucking Murdoch. A malevolent entity of unspeakable horror in an increasingly baggy and ill-fitting skin suit, who at his merest whim can unleash a veritable horde of Katie Hopkinses across his global media empire, dripping vitriol from every paragraph, extinguishing all hope in human goodness like a cheap lighter in a hurricane. She may be a particularly sadistic stormtrooper, but he owns the fucking Death Star.
Murdoch 71% Hopkins 29%
Louise Mensch vs. Rebekah Brooks
At first glance, this looks like a tough call. Both women are known for writing cringeinducing fiction; Mensch as author of a collection of piss-poor ‘chick-lit’ novels, Brooks as editor of the News of the World and The Sun. Both had a public fall from grace. Both women can climb inside Rupert Murdoch’s colon in under four seconds from a standing start. Look a little closer however, and the differences become more pronounced. For the most part, Brooks has taken a low-profile approach to cuntishness, operating covertly, filtering her worst aspects through the mouthpiece of whichever future litterbox liner she was editing at the time. Mensch, by contrast, decided to take her dipshittery public. At any given moment you can find her on social media bullying teenage girls, mistaking her own search history for evidence of anti-semitism among Labour Party supporters, getting into Twitter spats with people far more knowledgeable than herself (i.e.:everybody), playing at journalism with her sub-Breitbart ‘news’ website Heat Street, and generally hosing anyone who gets close enough with a near-constant stream of rancid opinions. Mensch wins this one due to visibility.
Mensch 58% Brooks 42%
Liam Fox vs. Kelvin MacKenzie
There’s a case to be made that Kelvin MacKenzie is one of the most odious wastes of flesh and organs in the country and nobody makes this case quite as convincingly as MacKenzie himself. To listen to the man speak is akin to being buried up to your neck in raw sewage and having to eat your way to freedom. To read his writings is as enjoyable as being dragged behind an incontinent, racist elephant as it stampedes through an abattoir. Liam “Disgraced Former Minister Liam Fox” Fox is mainly known for leaving classified government documents in a park bin, breaching national security by allowing his mate to tag along to secret meetings and advocating a Brexit so hard and fast it would give Kenneth Williams an innuendo-induced aneurysm. That said he’s never, to my knowledge, perpetuated a monstrous 27 year lie that debased the memory of 96 innocent football fans who died in a tragic and preventable accident either, so this one has to be a win for Kelvin and a loss for the rest of us because he’s still breathing.
Fox 27% MacKenzie 73%
Theresa May vs. Richard Littlejohn
Theresa should walk this as she’s Prime Minister now and has the power to inflict her own brand of kitten-heeled fascism upon millions of people up and down the country, while Penis Tinypenis…SORRY, Richard Littlejohn is a fat, washed up hack sat at his computer in his gated Florida compound, crywanking because nobody really listens to or takes him seriously anymore.
May 69% Littlejohn 31%
Piers Morgan vs. Nigel Farage
[Dreamy thousand yard stare] Wha…oh sorry, I was just reading the title of this entry and imagining Piers and Nigel actually engaged in a battle to the death with knives and spears and pointy sticks and stuff. It was lovely. Watching two of the most loathsome wanknuggets of this or any other century tearing chunks out of each other’s repulsive carcasses with an assortment of hellish instruments of pain is just… Sorry, I drifted off again. Do I have to pick a winner? I mean, as long as they’re both hurt, yeah? What? It’s not actually a battle to the death? Well that’s disappointing.
Morgan 50% Farage 50%
Mike Ashley vs. Tony Blair
Like the smell of a rotting corpse in the boot of your car or an annoying waiter who keeps popping up, mid-mouthful, to ask if you’re enjoying your meal, Tony Blair just won’t fucking go away. Just when you think his dead-eyed rictus grin has assaulted your eyes for the last time, up he bloody pops; usually from under the byline of some Guardian article headlined “Blair: Why the Labour Party Needs To [insert the last goddamn thing you want them to do] To Survive”. He’s like political herpes. I’ll level with you, prior to writing this I had no idea who Mike Ashley was. A quick Google and I learn that he owns Sports Direct, a retailer that treats its employees with the sort of care and respect you might expect from a workhouse owner in a Charles Dickens novel. His Wikipedia entry also mentions that he is highly reclusive, at one point quoting someone referring to him as ‘the British Howard Hughes’. Whether this means he also has ten inch fingernails and stockpiles jars of his own piss is not a matter of public record. Still, no matter how shitty an employer he is, he hasn’t started any major wars, nor does he have the blood of millions on his hands. Hooray for Tony!
Ashley 15% Blair 85%
Paul Dacre vs. Iain Duncan Smith
Gaaaaahhh! This is too difficult! Trying to pick the biggest arsehole from these two is like saying “Hmmm, should I inject this cocktail of bleach, pig excrement and battery acid into my left eyeball or my right eyeball?” and then you inject it into both eyeballs because you hate everything SO MUCH and you just want the pain to stop.
I reckon Dacre will just edge it because unlike IDS he’s still in his job and doesn’t look like
he’s fucking off anytime soon and so the circus of hate will go on and on and on and oh god
MAKE IT STOP.
Dacre 59% Duncan Smith 41%
Boris Johnson vs. Melanie Phillips
Boris Johnson with his hair like a toilet brush somebody set fire to and then discarded in a puddle of bleach. With his racist remarks about ‘picaninnies’ with ‘watermelon smiles’. With his bumbling ‘Gosh! Crikey!’ persona that masks a cold ambition far outstripping his meagre abilities. He’s got this one in the bag. I mean, when was the last time you got annoyed at something Melanie Phillips said or did? A long time ago. She doesn’t have the platform she used to, aside from the occasional appearance in The Cunt Chair on Question Time, so opportunities to make our collective shit itch are rare these days. Whereas Boris is inescapable. And as foreign secretary, the whole world is finally able to witness how there isn’t a single situation that this mop-topped fart balloon cannot make eleventy billion times worse.
Johnson 82% Phillips 18%
Jeremy Hunt vs. Michael Gove
Y’know I could make this decision based on the acres of dumb/incompetent/evil things both of these terrible shitehawks have done in their turd-festooned careers. It wouldn’t be hard – Gove’s key role in leading us all over the Brexit cliff would be enough on its own without even considering his tenure as education secretary. Jeremy Hunt is doing everything in his power to destroy the NHS, he’s loathed by pretty much every medical professional in the country, he’s a human analogue of those wind powered arm-flailing tube men you see on the forecourt of shady used car dealerships; he can’t even operate a bell properly, but I’m going to give this one to Gove purely on the strength of that infamous tweet where the chinless guffcloud called Mrs. Brown’s Boys ‘genius’. There’s no going back from something like that.
Hunt 36% Gove 64%