ANALYSIS: Why ‘A Groin-Sperm’ is an anagram for our times

Some of us aren’t wearing that well. At first sight, you’d take one look at Piers Morgan and say he belongs firmly in that quartile, given that he seems to be turning into Monsieur Groslard….or Mr Lardarse, as we English would say. But as The Slog explains, Morgan the Pirate may well be a chap whose time has come.

I’ve long harboured suspicions about Arse-rim Pong [anag 2]. He’s a lousy journalist, and compounds that crime by backing all the wrong horses from “sources in Iraq” to Gordon Brown. He’s also a very lucky boy to be this side of the HMP’s high walls (financial hokey-pokey, phone hacking et al) and indirectly that’s where my main suspicions lie: he is, let’s face it, something of a State shill.

Moving on from doubts, my other problems with the guy surround not suspicions but certainty. He suffers from Gonads (Grotesquely Obvious Nasty And Dim Syndrome) and like so many with the IQ of an educationally subnormal brick, lacks all the compassion, sensitivity and discernment required to be in any way likeable or worth listening to.

Hence his attack on a talented female tennis player who is clearly suffering from debilitating anxiety attacks. Being unaware of what a complete cock he is, Morgan has never had one of those and – being a man of no talent himself – he’s not really equipped to comment.

He’s on safer ground as a shill, where the sole requirement is to talk illogical rubbish and demonise those of us who know something about virology.

What dear old Smears didn’t mention in this epic tweet is that he is double-vaxxed…but has developed Covid19 anyway. Let joy be uncontained. For you see, only somebody “incredibly stupid” would rush to get mRNA jabs with the worst safety records in FDA history, discover they didn’t work….and then carry on persuading innocent people to do the same thing.

Except, of course, it isnt stupidity: for as I wrote earlier, he’s a shill. Just as with Lenny Henry and Michael Caine, some prat has conducted a few focus groups (Lenny’s a bame see, and Michael’s a national treasure) and they found that the proles like Piers Morgan because ‘e sez what he finks dunnee and despite bein’ a toff, ‘e’s just like one of us. Pretty much what they used to say about Boris, in fact.

It is, I have to tell you, quite a challenge to write a post about slithery, poisonous things without resorting to obscenity. Especially for me. So a thought has occurred to your correspondent on the subject of keeping prose both cleaner and less obviously the sort of Hate Crime that will one day see us all shut up for good.

It would be quite nice, for example, to immortalise Romping Arse [anag 3] for all time by introducing the phrase, “You really are a complete Piers aren’t you?” for those of a malplaisant nature – thereby avoiding use of the word prick.

Or – faced with one of those “Doctor knows best” robots – to smile and say, “Ah right – how very Morgan of you!” without actually ruining a masked supper party by saying “Moron”.

That said, Piers Stefan Pughe-Morgan is very much a case of ‘Cometh the Hour, cometh the Man’. For we live in an epoch of blustering insistence, demanded obedience, post-empirical analysis, demonisation of good sense, bullying threats, taking liberties, thick-headed intellectual idleness and sociopathically cynical mendacity. And nobody in Blighty represents the compleat incarnation of that state of affairs with quite the effortless élan of I’m Groin Rapes [anag 4].

Indeed, so in tune is he with the times, our Piers really out to be in the House of Commons, using the alias Gonirears MP [anag 5]. Unfortunately, under our archaic system, this still involves the tedium of getting elected, and such would run the severe risk of nine out of ten voters realising that he is in fact Roman Gripes [anag 6], the infamous Pompeii senator promising nothing more than bread and circuses.

Many a person in public life cheats and gets off scott-free in these dark times. Norm’ Pigs-Ear [anag 7] is, without doubt, a man of our times.


Additional anagrams by Maude Oftenaughtie