Joan H. Collins - A distastefully old, wrinkled and delusional one trick pony, so up herself!

By Stanley Collymore

Joan Collins rather certainly
throughout her earlier life  
and, quite a far cry from  
her now demonstrably  
and clearly pathetic, octogenarian  
existence has actually ridden her  
bike around the block, countless
more times than the customary  
neighbourhood postman, truly  
does, and quite similarly been  
lubricated more times than a  
bicycle chain. A rather nasty  
and hateful,  also verminous
piece of work, intentionally  
so to all those who were or
are very characteristically  
much more talented than  
this so distinctly pathetic  
evidently one trick pony  
who literally started off
as this soft porn actress  
who very conveniently  
clearly made sure, that
she always, essentially  
happened to be in the
right place: very aptly
the customary casting  
couch, rather suitably  
at the propitious time.

And never really despite her
using Dynasty as her usual  
backdrop, truthfully rose
above that initial genre.
This despite the evidently so stark
reality to others, who discernibly  
as well as closely, and markedly  
objectively, dispassionately too  
keenly observe Joan Collins: a
five times married bint that's  
now an OAP,  whose face has  
so much botox, laughably on
it that noticeably and rather  
candidly also; she honestly  
resembles  a balloon, with  
a weird face, drawn on it!
That this very delusional  
woman so self-evidently  
with such mental health  
problems, can so risibly  
seriously believe, she is
a unique, human being.

And it's hard to fathom out  
how Peter your husband:
56 years old, to your 88
years and a whopping 32 years
your junior,  doesn't physically  
throw up; when, at night, you
are literally, regrettably then  
rather reluctantly obliged to  
essentially peel off that God  
awful sludge and paint: the  
latter, characteristically far
more so, than the majority  
of new autos are carrying,
to stipulate at your actual  
behest, that Peter has sex
with a lousy coffin dodger!  

One thing however is for  
absolute certain Joan
Henrietta Collins;
you have literally had yourself  
so well embalmed physically  
that it'll save precious time  
for the undertaker; when
as inescapably happens
the surely unavoidable  
Grim Reaper, imposes
his grave appearance.

(C) Stanley V. Collymore
11 October 2021.

Author's Remarks:  
The delusional notions of the likes of Joan Henrietta Collins, Herr Richard Littlejohn and the other likeminded kith and kin expatriates infesting the rest of the world with their presence notably in the USA, genocider m, inured convict, racist and delusional Terra nuliius Australia; and everyone of them hard core sycophantic British royalists most ironically distinctly thrilled to live and make their living not in Britain but other people's countries. Basically, notwithstanding all that, that literally all of them enthusiastically, and also unquestionably, do fervently believe in the invoilability of this supposed English race whoever or whatever that is, yet unceasingly and clearly dementedly, but nonetheless fervently, yearn for an all-white Britain that's comprised exclusively of their racist sort.

Rather predictably, although wholly unintelligible; but whoever actually sensibly said that such intellectually challenged little Englanders and also braindead empire loyalists were, in effect, anything other than the toxic dregs of humanity that they always were and will exhaustively carry on being?  

Death is an inevitability that rational and sensible persons routinely accept with dignified equanimity. And hope that their lives will be a constructive legacy to those who come after them. But fundamentally in all seriousness, what purposeful constructive legacy will Joan Henrietta Collins seriously leave when she dies? My honest and unapologetic response is, Zilch!

And those like Joan Henrietta Collins who've frankly contributed nothing of significance to the betterment of humanity, is to paraphrase Charles Windsor: one of that family, apart from Harry and Meghan of course, that Joan the distinctly resilient social climber adamantly admires and, predictably so, is as distinctively amoral and also indifferently immoral as the entirety of the Windsor mafia Klan family, is clearly herself a distinctive carbuncle on the face of decent humanity!

And in a distinct variance, Joan Henrietta Collins from my profoundly innate, instinctively Christian and intense humanitarian principles inculcated in me from my earliest childhood, it's nevertheless my earnest hope Joan that whatever demon deity you worship or intimately identify with, likewise as indifferently as you yourself have behaved to others during your quite selfish and self-centred life here on Earth, that when the distinctly, inevitable realization of your imminent demise regarding this life finally arrives,  your eternal existence will be one quite identical in its everlasting suffering to that of Prometheus!

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