Katie Hopkins

I hope she puts on her weekly white wash goes to put the clothes bin back upstairs and finds one solitary sock sitting on the floor and the washing machine has already started filling.

I hope she buys some expensive paint for the skirting boards in her bathroom but it's mixed badly by the shop and it's the same colour as the walls but she paints all the skirting anyway thinking it will dry lighter. When she goes back to the shop they refuse to admit that they've mixed it badly or apologise in fact they argue that is the same as the colour she asked for despite clear evidence to the contrary so she has to buy another tin of a different colour and when they mix it it's not quite the colour she wanted but by now any colour will do and while she's painting she accidentally knocks the pot over in the doorway and has to spend 3 hours cleaning it off the hallway carpet.

And then I hope that her other half says that her painting looks alright. "Only alright?" she then says, to which he replies "Yes".

Followed by "fine"

.

I hope one day she's in her car in traffic, and she idly looks at the instrument panel and thinks 'My, that's a clear piece of glass in front of my fuel gauge, I can't even see it!', and then produces her index finger and slowly closes in on the needle, only to realise at the last minute that the real reason she can't see the glass is because there is no glass at all, and simultaneously her finger contacts the needle and knocks it off its mount, and whilst she scrabbles to collect it from the little nook it's now embedded in, the lights change and she has to drive off, and when she pulls over to replace the needle she can't be sure exactly where it was pointing, so she has to go and fill the car up and reset the needle towards 'F', and for months afterward she's paranoid about running out of petrol because she might've damaged the needle.

I hope she goes for a shower in the morning and then realises when she's finished that she needs a poo.

I hope she gets inher car and sees the petrol gauge needle on the left, in the red, but has a momentary lapse of concentration and thinks that the needle would be on the right if the tank was empty, and runs out of petrol in the fast lane of the M4 as she's half way to a romantic weekend.

Niche but nice.

^^^I hope she decides to use the downstairs toilet for her poo and it becomes a flock of sparrows so violent that there is monumental splash-back which covers her front and back bottom. She then has to waddle up stairs to the shower with her trousers around her knees via the hallway and passed the frosted glass panels of the front door. Just as the postman gets there to put her letters through the door. Did he see her? That question will stay with her for a very long time and might make it difficult to get to sleep for a while.

^this has happened to you?

i hope the next time she steps out in her canada goose jacket, she is confronted by a young man berating the fact that London rarely sees temps below 2deg C and that the trapping and slaughter of coyotes for the fur trim is no justification for fashion statement.

Life imitating art.

I hope she wakes up from a dream about waking up and it's just before her alarm goes off. I hope she then drifts off back to sleep and has a dream about falling back to sleep, making herself late for a meeting only to wake up and realise she's actually late for a meeting. I hope she then spends the rest of the day with an uneasy sense of deja vu and wondering if she's now forgotten an important premonitive dream.

I hope she's having a poo in the office toilet and starts to worry that she might be dreaming and shitting the bed.

I hope one of her contact lenses falls out quite early in the working day and has to kind of squint for the rest of the day, leaving her a little dizzy and concerned that people think she's a bit odd.

i hope the next time she steps out in her canada goose jacket

I bought a secondhand big red Canada Goose jacket for about 75NZD from a dude who was working in Antarctica, but sold it before coming back to the UK, not realising that in the years I've been away they've actually (somehow) become very fashionable and I probably would've got several hundred quid more than I paid for it.

I hope that happens to her, too.

hope she buys a steak and kidney pie from the chippy
bites in to it, and chews on the used condom some scamp at the meat factory put inside
(nb, used to go out with a girl who worked in food complaints sort of thing, and she saw a pie like that, and a loaf of sliced bread , with a mouse in it)

I hope her pepper mill is left in the open position and gets clogged. Every increasingly frustrating twist of the useless grinder spewing damp clumps of stale corns or maddening gasps of nothing at all. And then she's left with a sore wrist on her nazi-saluting hand.

I hope, for reasons I can't explain at the moment, some time in the future she's made to eat a bowl of spiderwebs.

i hope her partner goes to light a fart over her head to wake her up , fails and just shits on her

I hope she's lying in bed one night and suddenly cringes at something she said to someone twenty years ago.

I hope she can't quite get her saddle height right.

I hope she goes for a cycle in ill-fitting jeans and chafes her labia, then gets home and it's the one day of the year her frigid husband has summoned the courage to try and shag her so she has to decline.

I hope she traps her finger in between chain and cog when trying to clean her bike.