Dear sexual predator,
I know it’s wrong, but I think about you all the time. What are you wearing? I like to imagine you in your hair shirt, under your cloak of shame with a thick lining of regret. It’s haawt.
I’m very worried for you because the impossible has happened: Twitter is even angrier! It’s the worst. Your deepest fears have come true—the headlines have been taken over by hordes of angry, possibly hairy feminists with no sense of humour. Why can’t they just relax and take a joke, right? (A good banging would help them, but they’re too