Katie Hopkins

i hope she stands on a landmine.

I hope she steals someone's liqourice allsorts, and half way through eating them all she realises it's actually a bag of fox shit.

I hope she reads this thread in the hope of finding continued funnies, rather than just a tired long tail of something that perhaps should have stopped at least 10 pages ago.

I hope she goes to take the bin bag out and catches it on the bin lid, tearing it and the bin juice spills onto one of her heat holders.

I hope she wakes up in the middle of the night and realises her parents were laughing at her, not with her.

I hope some Ozzie bloke names a particularly naughty and greedy goat after her and posts video clips of him feeding his rag-tag flock bran biscuits.

I hope that she reads your comment and can't get the Doris Day song Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps out of her head.

I hope she tries to post some wacky interesting article from the interwebs on a forum but she somehow gets the link wrong and posts something completely out of contest without noticing while everybody else is posting and enjoying the original correct article and thinks she's an idiot.

I hope she goes to a BDSM night with her partner and it just makes things super awkward for a few weeks.

I hope she falls out of her web as she consumes the headless body of her mate after copulation.

I hope someone tweets this to her

Can we all create a Twitter account just to send it to her

I hope she leaves a private browsing tab open on the shared iPad.

I hope she signs up to a Sportive in France, only to arrive on the start to be told that she can't ride it because her bike has disc brakes.

I hope she goes to a friend's mother's surprise 70th birthday party in a less than salubrious local football club, puts her best bit of tweed/selvedge/brogue combo on, strolls in, notices there is no one there that she knows and that it looks like backstage of the Jeremy Kyle show, turns on her blakey'd heel, and fucks off out again, realising slowly that she is, in fact, a week early.

I hope nobody tweets this link to her, so instead of using it as a gift-wrapped opportunity to write a hateful, myopic, anti-cyclist rant containing some slightly amusing if literally stolen material, she'll have to think of something else all by herself, which will be hard, and her lifespan will thus be shortened just a little bit, and we'll know that, and be happy.

I hope she goes on a mediocre night out with people she doesn't really know and gets so drunk she wakes up with @lucas

Then they both have an awkward moment as they try to work out which of them is the bigger cunt.

I hope her therapist suddenly gets really judgemental out of the blue and refuses to talk about it because "that's not how this works".

I hope her cat doesn't like her cleaner.

I hope she gets the hot/cold mix wrong when leaving a bath to run and when she returns to it she realises it's freezing cold and she has to drain most of it out and start again.

I hope she tries out the GPS treasure hunting game of geocaching and goes to her local park to reach under a bush and grab what she thinks is a cleverly hidden container only to find that it is actually a flimsily bagged and irresponsibly disposed of dog shit.

I hope I win the lottery and I can buy the house next door to her.....

So I can give it to Refugee Action.

If there's any money left over, I'll buy the one on the other side and give that to Michael Carroll.

i hope she gets over the fact her father is mr punch, hence her grotesque features

I hope she reads this thread in the hope of finding continued funnies, rather than just a tired long tail of something that perhaps should have stopped at least 10 pages ago.

I was going to post something similar but didn't get round to it. It was good with James Martin, but I think we're on about the fifth repetition now, and effectively cursing ourselves. :)

Plus, once again, someone like Katie Hopkins thrives on attracting attention. That's all they want, they just don't care by what means they get it. The less attention everyone pays to it, the better. Someone just has to start, somewhere, sometime.