Come on then! Come on! I'll bite yer ankles ya giant bastard!

Since the first utterances, those first vestigial syllables that came a tumbling out of the mouth of what can just about be called a human being, sat somewhere on the plains, poking their own faeces with a stick, words have had power.

There are words which vent frustration, words that show rage, ones for the expression of love and adoration for another, words that comfort and words that will endure long after those who spoke them are gone.

Then there are words which fill you with an intense mixture of feelings as their foul and pestilential tang disrupts your humours until you want to burst your eardrums with a screwdriver so as to never have to hear them again. And among these, there are two which irk me most of all.

DANNY DYER.

Don't know him? Well it doesn't matter, because you've met him. Yes, you really have. Remember at school the huge kid, the one that had bigger knuckles than brains? Used to beat the living hell out of kids that would have stood no chance had they come armed with a chainsaw? Right, now remember the weedly, smirking little prick that stood behind that kid,goading his trollish master onto further acts of violence and torment? Hid behind him because he was far too chicken shit to ever actually take anyone on himself but loved to hang out with the hard kids and thought he was the dogs back wheels?

That's him, at least it is to all intents and purposes. I cannot fucking stand Danny Dyer, he is a total and utter pussy yet likes to hang around with some thoroughly hard blokes like Jason Statham and Vinnie Jones and bask in the reflective glory of how tough his mates are.

He hosts that show, you know, worlds hardest Ice Cream van drivers etc? Standing there posturing like a fucking peacock, swaggering around like the hardest man in the world, until the tough guy that is the basis for the show inevitably beats the everlasting crap out of him and shows him to be the pansy that he truly is.

Now why do I have a problem with Danny Dyer? Because I hate bullies.

I have been bullied myself and have stood up for people in my life whenever I have been able to and that has a lot to do with why I am the slightly sociopathic, ranting nutjob I am. But I got over it, grew up, got some perspective and learned to take care of myself, no thanks to wankers like Danny Dyer.

His response when asked by a reader of his low-level wankmag column how to deal with a very upsetting breakup from a girl he had been truly in love with?

"You could do A, B, C, or you could just cut her face so no-one else would ever want her".

Charming, you little shithead. And now you are trying to claim you were "miss-quoted". How exactly? Cup her face was it? You didn't want to pie and mash her boat race? Oh right, I forgot, like all bullies you squeal like a little piggy when you are confronted over your actions because you don't even have the balls to back it up.

Mr Dyer, I honestly hope that the next person you annoy takes you to task for the things you do and say. You think there is anything funny about domestic violence? Guess again. I know you will claim that you didn't mean it, or it was out of context or whatever, but you know the truth. You know exactly the kind of man you are and one day, when you open your mouth too far, someone will be waiting for you and your hard mates won't be around to protect you.

Now that is a TV program i would definately tune in for.