Cwis is threatening to move back in with me if he gets sacked from the BBC and has to go back on the fucking dole and I can't be arsed with that coz he always blows all of his giro in one day and then spends the rest of the week moaning every time I give him one of my balled-up-tissues-in-a-yoghurt-pot for dinner like a right fuss pot. Last time he lived with me he had so many bonkers habits that I had to move out and stay with my mate Jim Flute which was a fucking nightmare because Jim's an eel and I can only hold my breathe for about 45 seconds at a time so I couldn't catch a wink of sleep.
Here's a list of his bad habits that did my head in and meant that I didn't get any sleep for about 2 years...

  1. He used to leave his hair straighteners on and after he almost burned the place down, instead of making extra sure to switch them off, he used to keep them dangling above a bowl of milk which didn't really do anything except make the place smell of knackered old milk.
  2. He collects fridge-freezers. He collects them like they're fucking stamps or Panini stickers though so he's got absolutely hundreds of the cunts which is a totally bullshit thing to collect and a complete waste of space, especially when you live in a bin.
  3. He used to wait until I was asleep and then superglue loads of bubble wrap onto me and then film me running about trying to gnaw it off and then he'd send the footage into Newsnight and then when they did't broadcast it, which they obviously never did, he'd go into a really dark depression for a few days and start drinking. It was pretty fucked up.
  4. He had a pet frog called William O'Shaughnessy who was quite funny but had tourettes which meant he used to wake me up every night shouting the words 'Finger Buffet' at the top of his lungs. 
  5. He used to invite Michaela Strachan over and then show her photo's he'd taken of my disgraceful ball bags even though he knew I fancied her and thought she was as fit as arseholes.
  6. He used to have Nutkins coming over every Tuesday for 'band practice' and they'd stay up until about 10am writing progressive techno songs about puffins and shit. They thought they were the bollocks but they only ever had one gig headlining at the 'Shrewsbury Marmalade and Chutney Festival 92'. Here's a picture...

I could go on but let's just all sign this and make sure he can carry on jabbering on about worms and that on prime time television and spare me the fucking bother...

Fans of the A406 North circular ring road won't want to miss out on this extraordinary opportunity to live directly underneath one of the dual carriageway's very sort after slip roads, within walking distance of a tree.
This part furnished studio comes with a sort of ceiling, an HIV negative bed and a bit of wood that has the word 'Paul' written on it in soy sauce.
If you enjoy sleeping inches away from the thundering, repetitive, thrum of International heavy good vehicles then you won't want to miss out on this great little bargain.
Tenant's fees apply. No DSS.
For viewings please call Knackered Alf on 07890707466

Good at scaling razor wire fences? Confident you can outrun/fight a German Shepherd? Then this is the place for you. Located right next to a part of the river that hardly ever has any murders that end up going to court, this stunning riverside property can be yours for as much as six nights of the week (The landlord will require the caravan for at least one night of the week for whatever it is he does with those dogs and that box of wigs) - a rota will be provided once an offer has been accepted).
This fantastic property comes with 2 beds, a small kitchenette, a bucket of sort of water, a bag of soiled children's clothes, some tupperware pots full some other stuff and a toilet that's certainly seen better days.
No smokers or pets.
Call Mr F Henderson - 890765

Have you ever seen a homeless man chop his own cock off with a pair of secateurs? Well you just might if you snap up this great little 2 bedroom property located moments away from one of those big sheds that trains go to sleep in. 
This quirky property, made from 100% pig iron, was originally designed as an incinerator.
It features two bedrooms/segments and a reception room/furnace, that currently houses 213 out of date barrels of rapeseed oil and loads of dead wasps and bees. 
Also, once there was an owl that sat on the chimney bit, an interesting conversation piece to have with friends over dinner/wasps.
Call Wilford Brimley  - -7890654344

As the cost of living in the city gets higher and higher by the day it's becoming increasingly important to be creative and think outside the box. With that in mind, there's never been a better time to move into the mind of a dying swan. You'll save £££s living in a flat which exists entirely in the prefrontal cortex of one of the Nation's most regal river dwelling birds as it slowly slips off this mortal coil on account of terrible injuries inflicted by the outboard motor of a small inflatable boat. Features large reception room and 2 generously sized bedrooms. No cats, DSS or refunds.
For viewings please call Mrs B.J Parsnip on 08454324564

A must see property.
Owned  by a five year old lad named Oliver. This must-see property is located in Oliver's mum's kitchen in the highly sought after borough of Wandsworth and boasts beautiful views of a Dualit 2-slot combi-toaster, a crayon drawing Oliver did of a horse and a pot of basil.
This cosy property is ideal for a professional couple who can be creative with a 20cm square space and don't mind occasionally receiving visits from Moshi monsters and a plastic figurine of Donkey from the Shrek films.
Excellent transport links to the jubilee line and only a 5 minute walk to the heath.
For viewings please call Jill (Oliver's mum) on 07890708675


I’d have thought that you humans might have grown up a little bit over the past few thousand years but you still seem to hold this ‘macho-man’ sterotype up on a pedestal despite the fact that evolution, science and progress has rendered it pretty much useless and should have, by now, been replaced with things like compassion, empathy and intellectualism. Things that might actually make this disgusting little circle a little bit better. But you don’t do you? You still just stand there clutching your little willies whilst you gurgle and gurn over images of big men with big oily muscles holding big guns as if Jean-Claude Van Damme movies portrayed the zenith of human aspiration as opposed to the tragic life's work of a man who has to have a personal assistant follow him around with an underpants hamper 24/7 because he’s roided himself up so much and taken so many drugs that he shits his pants every couple of hours (that’s actually true, I’ve spent some time with the fucking idiot).

The weird thing is is that the people who used to aspire to be the action-man-beefcake-superhero-character, toting a gun with a wry smile, have in fact grown up. The ‘alpha males’, by their very definition, have evolved with natural progression and amelioration and become the people who are now saving the world in crucial and indispensable ways. They are now fighting for the world using reason and rationale. So who is left carrying the torch for this anachronistic and retrogressive idea of what it is to be a powerful and ‘brave’ human being? It’s the fucking nerds and geeks. It’s the ‘beta males’ who have rushed in to fill the void via osmosis. It’s now the losers who didn’t get the memo who are now purporting themselves as tough guys and wondering why everyone thinks they’re a bunch of insane cunts. Watch a movie these days and the bad guy isn’t a ripped mega man, its a creepy little IT nerd or dentist who was picked on at school and has a penis that looks like an acorn that’s been gnawed on by a poorly horse. Look at President Putin, he’s a politician who thinks he looks like the dog’s ball bags riding around topless on a horse, posting videos of himself killing bears. Look at Rebecca Francis, ‘the giraffe hunter’ (recently rightly targeted by Gervais), a new breed of arsehole - rushing in, hundreds of years too late to fill the chasm of gun toting maniacs that no one without learning difficulties thinks is any way, shape, or form not a complete cock end. The most dangerous and scary people in the world at the moment are the losers who wouldn’t stand a chance in a real fight. Back in the paleolithic era these douchbags would have sat in the corner of their caves eating bugs and crying, but now, with the benefit of modern weaponry, rules and regulations they can purport themselves as the types of ‘heroes’ who display the bravado and brawn that would never have previously been afforded to them.
Hunting may have played an important role, next to plant gathering and scavenging, for human survival in prehistoric times, but the modern ‘sportsman’ stalks and kills animals for ‘recreation.’ Hunting is a violent and cowardly form of outdoor ‘entertainment’ that kills hundreds of millions of animals every year, many of whom are wounded and die a slow and painful death.

This brings me on to the coward ‘Walter James Palmer’. Would Mohammed Ali have been considered such a legend if he’d taken down George Foreman during the ‘rumble in the jungle’ by setting up a snipers nest half a mile away and taking him out with a fancy bow and arrow? Doubt it. He’d have more than likely been disqualified for a start. He’d have been considered a bloody menace and a liability and locked up for a very long time in a Kinshasa jail cell.
Palmer calls himself a ‘big game hunter’, a name that unfortunately still carries with it connotations of prestige, bravado and, in a way, has grandiose undertones of tradition and institution. ‘Trophy Hunting’ and ‘Big Game Hunting’ is a pretty ostentatious term for the act of murdering helpless, pure and often rare creatures who should be marvelled and supported in their sadly ever decreasing habitat.
I could go on for hours about all the obvious reasons why hunting is a pointless exercise in the 21st Century but I feel like I’ve already beaten that drum a thousand times and it seems that bell ends are still happy to fly in the face of reason for whatever retarded reason it is that they carry on doing it.

And here’s what’s actually the most annoying bit. The slaughter and barbarity is one thing. The tragic ending of life is another (and clearly the worst). But the thing that actually makes me want to lock these psychos up in a cell for weeks and feed them their own bollocks is the pomp and ceremony that surrounds the whole charade. It’s the posing. They crouch down for photos with big dumb smiles smeared across their chubby little cunt faces behind a beautiful creature smeared in blood. It’s like taking a disgusting, runny shit, after a particular poor quality curry, and then taking a selfie with it in the bathroom as it sits there languishing in the toilet bowl. The pride of something so unimpressive and fetid is so cringe worthy that it makes me want to crawl up inside my own arse just to get way from it. Slightly off topic, but certainly an issue for me as a fox, is the pretentiousness of the fox hunter. Trotting around the countryside dressed like Clare Balding on Christmas day and blowing a wanky little trumpet whilst they - and army of insane dogs - try and rip a small fox to bits as if that’s a level playing fielding. Killing an animals when the odds are so stacked against it obviously isn’t a sport. It’s a piece of piss. Every time me or one of my mates slips into a baby’s room and eats its fingers everyone goes completely mental and won’t shut up about it for months. Obviously that’s not really a fair fight either but at least its one on one. Also, apart from me, most foxes, including my mate Double Denim David, don’t have the power of rational thought and reason.

So here is what I ask of you. I demand that The Supreme Court Of Zimbabwe take Walter James Palmer to court and deliver the harshest sentence possible. No one likes the fucking Americans anyway and maybe it’s time to deliver a serious message about how to respect your country and heritage. Everyone loved Cecil The Lion apparently and you can’t let some podgey faced little dentist fucker get away with going over there and shooting him and then letting him bleed out for 40 hours go unpunished. I know Zimbawe’s moral compass is probably a bit fucked considering your president is war mongering dictator, Robert Mugabe, but I’m seriously hoping that that will, for once, be an advantage. I hope you take this plonker into an extremely scary jail that’s reminiscent of something from the film ‘Hostel’ and do things to him that would make a sane person go a bit dizzy. This idiot should be delivered the maximum sentence possible and hopefully a bit worse than that. I’m not exactly sure what Zimabwe’s ideas are on capital punishment are but I honestly hope to find out and eagerly anticipate watching the whole terrifying scenario play out on YouTube.

This is serious. If I, Gus The Fox, can get 1 million signatures on this petition, will you please seriously consider sending Walter James Palmer into the Masai Mara Game Reserve and have him hunted by a group of animal conservationists armed with spears and ridiculously large dildos? Cheers

Gus The Fox

It's time to pick some hateful cunt to run the country again and trying to choose a favourite is about as easy as deciding which one of your arms to ram into the whirring cogs of a combine harvester. 
The problem is is that no one in politics understands 'you', mainly because 'you' are a right plonker. Nick Clegg and Ed Miliband have never spent an entire weekend sitting around in their pants eating Space Invaders and wanking into a shoe like you did last weekend. Natalie Bennett has probably never gone out drinking gin until 6am and then vommed it all up into her own lap on the Northern Line in front of an audience of horrified onlookers because she isn't a fucking mess like you are. That doesn't mean these people are in any way better. They're weird. They want to 'run the country' and that takes a spectacularly large ego that pretty much instantly precludes anyone from possibly being a genuinely decent person. There hasn't been a prime minister in history that was actually any good (Churchill went down ok because he won the war but if he hadn't had that then people would have just remembered him as a fat, sarcastic shithouse).
Best thing to do this time round is to 
A) Vote tactically to keep the tories out 
B)Vote Green because they seem like they genuinely might care about you
C)Curl one out onto your ballot paper and lob it into the box like Martin Clunes told me did last election.

Obviously no one's going to vote for Admiral Ackbar and his Waffen SS party so it probably won't be more than a few months until Farage is relegated to the 'where-are-they-now-file' along with Nick Griffin and hopefully it goes without saying that voting for old spam face is a shamefully selfish act that will only benefit those who already have enough. The Tories plan on lifting the hunting ban as well which means, if they get back in, I'll be spending the next five years running away from little bell ends blowing toy trumpets on horse back and I can't be arsed with that thanks.

Anyway, if you're still sitting on the fence staring at your own testicles like my mate Sexy Chris (literally) then hopefully this little guide will help fill you in on all your options. All research conducted by me, Double Denim David, James the Haemophiliac Wood Pigeon and Jonty Bunions (a dog I met behind Wickes).

David Cameron was born in 1947 out of a black egg that was dug up during a bomb disposal in Coventry City Centre
When he was 6 years old he had much of his face reconstructed out of gammon after his brother (Marcel) threw a piping hot bowl of 'Ready brek' into it during a game of eye spy
David Cameron does not believe in Paul Gascoigne and refuses to acknowledge the existence of the ex England attacking midfielder. He once claimed on Newsnight that Gazza was "simply a rumour started by Noel Edmonds on Noel's House Party for a bit of a laugh"
David Cameron owns a pet chicken called Finkel
He has been married 6 times, most famously to ex-Blue Peter presenter Diane-Louise Jordan
In 1998 Cameron was accused of the murder of 212 Chinese cockle pickers after their bodies were found in his garage. After a lengthy court case he was acquitted on the ground of diminished responsibilty
David Cameron can hold his breathe for almost 30 seconds
One of his famous party tricks at Conservative party conferences is to lash a sea lion with a whip he bought from the set of Pirates of The Caribbean: On Stranger Tides. He says he likes to use sea lions because "the whip really tears chunks out of their flesh and gets the crowd going"
David Cameron claims to be able to communicate with the dead using a set of dice that he bought off a shaman in Dubrovnik. Despite being told to stay out of police investigations Cameron has in fact given information that has lead to convictions in three murder cases and has been awarded a badge of honour by Scotland Yard
David Cameron's children are called Ruxpin, Paul Bunting and Mentuhotep III. One of his favourite games to play with the children is to leave them alone in public toilets around the country and see if they survive.
David Cameron's lifelong ambition is to learn how to evaporate and cling to windows and mirrors in the form of condensation.
Ed Milliband began life as a soft toy of an Aardman Animation tortoise and spent much of his early life strapped to the front of a bin lorry until he was brought to life by a child's Christmas wish.
Once free of the curse put on him by the sorcerer Nick Park he went to school and studied leisure and tourism. 
In 2001 he opened the ill-fated 'Ed Millipedes Insect Petting Zoo' in Amersham. After limited success it was finally shut down after a young girl was killed by a funnel-web spider.
Ed  Miliband can hover several centimetres off the ground if required
In 2005 he entered the Turner Prize with a large sculpture which he called 'Pixel'. The piece was a large red cube that opened up on the hour, every hour to expose viewers to large quantities of weapons grade plutonium. After thousands of complaints and several fatalities the Tate gallery eventually removed the piece from the competition. 
Anyone who's been watching coverage of the election campaign will already know that Ed travels everywhere on his little tricycle. He refuses to travel anywhere by car, bus or plane. During his campaign he only managed to visit 58 people in 2 boroughs
Ed Miliband has a tattoo of Screech from Saved By The Bell on his right forearm
Ed only eats Pop Tarts and spends almost 18 hours a day on the toilet 
When he was younger Miliband used to be in a black metal band called Fuckpig. Their debut album 'Worship at the throne of the Necroswine' received KKKK in Kerrang Magazine.
Nicholas Jennifer Fungal Clegg was born in 1967 to his parents 'Wolf' (from Gladiators) and also 'Scorpio', (also from Gladiators). As a child he caused concern to his parents by routinely running away from home and insisting on living in caves. He once went missing for 2 months and reportedly lived on a diet of sticklebacks which he fished out of local streams with what experts describe as "reptilian reflexes and hunting techniques"
Nick Clegg is unique in as so much as his tummy is made of soil, and, if he plants a seed into his belly button, he can nurture plants and vegetables into fruition. In 2007 he grew a pumpkin in his own abdomen that won a prize at the Devonshire County Fair,
Nick Clegg is a lying cunt
Clegg currently holds the record for creating the largest Eccles Cake in the world. It took over 30 000 raisins and 400 pints of milk which he milked from his pet python 'Dangerous Steve'
Clegg's wife Miriam Gonz├ílez Dur├íntez is immortal. She also has the ability to seperrate milk from water using her mind, which, so far, has been useless. 
Clegg wrote his university dissertation on clogs and entitled it 'Clogs by Clegg'. He received a 2:2 for his efforts.
Clegg was once caught stabbing a horse to death with a butterfly knife. When asked by police why he did it he said he was under a lot of pressure from David Cameron and had underestimated the stresses that might have been brought on by being the deputy prime minister.
Clegg's favourite film is Mallrats

As a child, Natalie Bennett's hair was cut off, condensed down and used to create some of the fist examples of the liquid used in lava lamps. Until she was 14 years old Natalie Bennett was bald until she won her case against Mathmos to earn her freedom 
She invented leather jackets
Natalie Bennett is married to a snail called 'Ultra Viper'
She was once held hostage in a bank robbery and escaped by firing poison out of the gills that she has behind her ears.
Bennett is a big fan of 'Daddies Sauce' and one of her leading policies within the Green manifesto is to bring back 'Daddies' and make it a major player in the breakfast condiment scene.
Bennett's house is in the cotswolds and is surrounded by a fence built of Bombay Badboy pot noodle pots



You may have come across this foul-mouthed fox on Twitter, or heard of him through recommendations from Noel Fielding, or even seen him going through your bins. When he’s not harassing members of the public, he enjoys upsetting animals, visiting his friend, Cwis Packham, and a little arts and crafts. Gus is the most flawed little creature, but you have to love him a bit.
I offered Gus some therapy in the form of these seven questions…
1) Meanest thing anyone has ever said to you?
Considering people say all sorts of fucked up shit to me every five minutes, that’s a pretty tough one. It’s weird that these days everyone seems to be knocking about with foxes knitted onto their jumpers and campaigning against us getting fucking murdered by Boris Johnson and such, but whenever I seem to meet anyone when I’m out and about, it’s absolute fucking carnage. I suspect I get treated like horse shit because I look like the result of what would happen if you covered Dean Gaffney in bacon and rolled him down a hill in a barrel full of tampons. People are always kicking me and calling me a revolting little bollocks and I guess when you’re a fox that’s just par for the course. The other day an old lady was watching me wandering about her back garden and I sneezed and all this grey sort of juice came out of my eyes and she threw a tin of pilchards at me and called me a rotten cunt before she was sick on her cat, which was actually pretty funny.
I suppose the meanest thing anyone ever said to me was the absolute tirade of of insults my own dished out on me after they found out that I fucked and killed my own gran. That was an awkward Christmas.
Gus the Fox
© Gus the Fox
2) Who is your favourite person?
I don’t really like most people. I’m not exactly what you’d call a ‘people person’. I quite like Cwis Packham because he invites me over to his bungalow to watch porn and eat Jaffa Cakes. The other day I was over there and Cwis thought it would be funny to nail me to a cross in his back garden and then he invited Adrian Chiles and Frankie from The Saturdays over to spray paint me gold and then they FedEx’ed me to Nicholas Serota and tried to submit me as an early entry to the Turner Prize, so he’s a hardly a fucking saint. Despite the fact that it was the single most painful experience that I’ve ever had to endure it was also a complete waste of fucking time because I ended up looking like a shit Jeff Koons rip-off.
I also like Victoria Coren Mitchell because she’s got two human penises and she showed me them and trusted me not to tell anyone. That’s a huge amount of trust and the sign of a true friend. I’m probably one of the only people to ever see her naked and it’s such a baffling and confusing sight that it makes you feel a little bit giddy.
3) Do you believe there is an afterlife?
Religion’s a funny one. It sort of feels like the whole thing would be redundant by now and everyone would just grow up and stop talking shit but even in this age of enlightenment it feels like there’s still a wave of resurgence and it never goes away. As a fox I was brought up to follow The Mighty Slug but I’m starting to have serious reservations that a slug that was born in 1992 can possibly be the creator of all things. For one thing there’s loads of evidence to suggest that there was life prior to 1992. You only need to have a vague knowledge of Slade and the invention of washing machines to realise that the universe must be more than 23 years old.
I don’t know. Faith is powerful tool. It seems that everyone has their own agenda. I’m always a bit wary of agnosticism. It strikes me that that if you sort of possibly believe that there might be a place that you go to for the rest of eternity after you die it might be a good idea to fucking knuckle down and do some research instead of wasting your life going to Lazer Quest and taking photographs about your dinner on Instagram. Seems like quite an important thing not to be giving your wholehearted attention to.
I hope there is an afterlife because I’ve been watching my cousin, Ian Bannister, slowly decomposing on the side of the North circular ring road for the past few weeks and if that’s how this stupid little life ends for us all then it’s not ideal. He’s got a family of centipedes living in his lifeless, truncated rectum at the moment which isn’t that much of a laugh.
In short, I doubt there’s an afterlife unfortunately. Not least because the term ‘afterlife’ is, in itself an oxymoron and a paradigm. Just because you want something to exist doesn’t make it so. I’m pretending I’m eating a roast dinner at the moment but it’s actually just some soil. Pretending you want something that’s better than what you’ve got might make things slightly easier but it doesn’t mean it’s good for you.
Gus the Fox
© Gus the Fox
4) Something that makes you sad?
Lenny Henry.
5) Are you wise?
Last night I drank loads of WD40 and got so messed up that ate my own testicles in an attempt to make a duck laugh, so I probably wouldn’t say that I’m ‘wise’ exactly. Having said that, I’m probably not as fucking stupid as some of my dickhead mates though. The other day my mate Liam Flint (a frog I know with alopecia) accidentally sold himself into some sort of horrible sex trafficking operation. I don’t know how you even do that to yourself by accident. What a div.
My mate Sexy Chris is a right plum as well. A few years ago he read some stupid Chinese proverb that he found in a fortune cookie or some shit and it said something about ‘building a nest inside your own mind’ which he took literally like some sort of enormous feathery cock. Anyway he spent the next few days shoving all these sticks and bits of fluff into his own head. Just cramming it all into his ears and up his nose until his head was the size of basketball ball and started looking like Alan Sugar with Bell’s Palsy. Anyway he had a seizure and now there’s something wring with his brain because he says that every time he blinks it feels like he’s trapped inside a small box for about 3 weeks. He spends about 90% of the time crying these days which is pretty funny.
Sexy Chris
© Gus the Fox
6) Do you ever feel lonely?
I sometimes do in the winter but during the Spring and Summer months there’s usually loads of wasps and bees knocking about so I’m usually pretty happy with that. If I ever get lonely I’ll usually get married to a moth. I’ve been married to 789 moths to date and I’ve eaten every single one. There’s not many people who can say that… even Martin Clunes has only been married to 4 or 5.
7) What would you eat for your last ever meal?
I was given a ‘last meal’ once before when I got abducted by Tim Henman and he bundled me into his van. He took me into his garage and chained me to his Police Acadamy 7 (Mission to Moscow) pinball machine and held a gun to my head and made me watch him perform a play he’d written about Bombay mix. He made me choose my last meal and I went for the Bombay mix because, in all fairness, it was a captivating performance and quite a good play.
Before he could execute me Henman tripped over and blew his own head off. I was well surprised that that never got in any of the papers.

You're always sharing your mishaps with Twitter from scaring kids to eating them and abusing other animals, what has been the biggest disaster of all? 
When you’re a fox everyone thinks you’re a bit of an arsehole. It feels like whenever I act like a bit of a pillock and eat some kid’s fingers it’s front page news, but last week when i got bummed in a tunnel by a gang of bin men I couldn’t help noticing that it didn’t get a single column inch in any of the fucking papers. I guess when you get messed with as much as I have, you start taking it out on others, especially if you’re a bit of dick. The other day Michael Buerk smashed all my teeth out so that he could turn them into a necklace to sell on because he’d lost all of his money gambling at a cock fighting ring and the whole thing made me so angry that when I bumped into this chaffinch I know called Royce Bubblejet I shoved him into a hot water bottle that I found in the bins and luzzed him into the sea. Sometimes when I think about how much he suffered it makes me laugh so much that I start going dizzy and all this sort of white gel starts  coming out of my nose and I start to have a panic attack.
Anyway, my biggest disaster is when my bollocks fell off and rolled into the canal and got gobbled up by a trout. That was annoying.

Do you consider yourself to be quite misunderstood? Do you think people understand you? 
I reckon foxes are misunderstood. It seems people don’t like us because we smell so bad that it makes most people start crying. I think though, on the whole, people understand me. I think when most people read the things I write on Twitter or on my website, they can tell that I’m a bit of a cunt. There isn’t much more to understand about me really. 
I’ve started a political party recently called FOXUK and I’m planning on running in the next General Election so I’m hoping people understand me enough to get their heads around my manifesto, but I doubt that they will because when I wrote it I’d just accidentally nailed a big fuck-off bag of ketamine that I’d found underneath Zoe Ball’s caravan and, I haven’t read it back for a while, but I think I spent most of the time waffling on about how migratory birds keep coming over to this country and stealing all of our worms which, in the cold light of day, probably isn’t an issue that’s going to win me very many votes from the electorate.

What has been the strangest thing you've discovered on your travels as a Fox? What has been the most fucked up? What has been the funniest?
When you spend your life snooping through areas where polite society fears to tread, you do tend to come across some pretty fucked up nonsense. I’d say the weirdest thing I found was about 6 months ago when me and my mate ‘Very Autistic Paul’ were going for a little wander in some wasteland behind Toy 'R' Us and we found a statue of Sue Barker that had been built out of  ham and gammon and strapped up on a big sort of crucifix. There were loads of hard boiled eggs arranged in concentric circles and someone had written the word ‘Aquafresh’ on every single tree in what looked like a mixture of blood and turds. I remember thinking that was both strange and fucked up even though, and I’m almost ashamed to tell you, it gave me and erection. 
The funniest thing I’ve ever discovered is probably my mate Sexy Chris. He was living in a bottle bank because he’d just lost his job at the owl sanctuary. Apparently he’d been fired because everyone thought he was, and I quote, “a cunt”. He’s pretty annoying because he believes this thing that people say that all owls are ‘wise’. He’s sort of confused the word wise with being a pretentious bell end though so he sits around all day  pretending to read books on existentialism by Jean-Paul Satre even though everyone knows he can’t read for toffee. I looked inside his copy of ‘Notes of the Underground’ by Dostoyevsky once and it was full of Panini stickers and loads of crushed up bits of dead mice.
He makes me laugh though so I like having him around. The other day he didn’t now I was watching him watching University Challenge and he answered ‘Quavers’ for every single question. I punched him as hard was I could in the chest and he laid a sort of square egg which wasn’t normal.

What are your top 5 most prized possessions? 
1 - My box of dead wasps
2 - A photograph I bought off Ebay of Gary Lineker’s toilet
3 - The taxidermied remains of my Uncle Horton. (He’s been taxidermied into an amusing pose where he’s having sex with a dead chimp wearing a pork pie hat. It would be quite amusing I suppose if it wasn’t such an enormous insult to the lives of two sentient beings and didn’t inspire such intense and unsettling nightmares. I feel sort of duty bound not to lob it in the canal nonetheless)
4 - I’ve got this toaster that someone’s glued fake eyelashes and a dildo onto. I like that
5 - …I don’t actually own anything else

If you could be one other animal, what would it be and why?
I’d probably be a moth. I don’t know how long they live, probably only a couple of weeks but imagine it, those weeks would be absolute puree fucking ecstasy. I fucking love moths. I’ve been married to dozens. The last one died because I kissed it and it got stuck to my tongue and I had to spit it onto the side of a Toyoto Rav 4

What is the most criminal thing you've ever done?
I technically can’t break the ‘law’ because I’m a fox. Having said that, the other day a farmer caught me having sex with all of his chickens and he tied me to his tractor and called the police. The police decided to punish me with their own unique brand of ‘eye for and eye’ justice. I’m no expert on the law but surely raping a fox is no way to restore order in an already corrupt and downward-spiralling society. I can get away with that sort of tomfoolery because I’m an animal. What they did is just bonkers to say the least. I’d love to get my hands on the video footage.

You often catch celebrities doing pretty messed up things, like Vernon Kay having sex with dogs in a tunnel. What has been the most traumatic?
Haha yeah. That was a funny old Christmas Day. I don’t know, I suppose that would have to be up there. I don’t know about traumatic but the most annoying at the moment is the fact that Bruce Forsyth keeps scrambling into my hole in the middle of the night and slapping me around the face with his penis. He does it every single bloody night and films it on his iphone because, apparently, he’s making some kind of happy-slapping-hidden-camera-prank show for Channel 5 which you wouldn’t really expect from old Brucie. I don't suppose it’ll go down as being his finest hour if he gets it on the TV.

Does Gus the Fox have a love interest? 
Not at the moment. I cracked one out onto a swan’s back the other day but I wouldn’t call it love. He certainly didn’t.

Have you ever been to Liverpool on your travels? What do you think of scousers? What do you think of the 'scouse brow' trend? 
I’ve not been to Liverpool to be honest but I do spend most of my life hanging around with people addicted to super strength lager and heroin  so I’ve obviously met loads. There’s a tramp who lives in a warehouse just up the canal called Guy Trinket and he’s always banging on about how he comes from The Wirral. He’s a good lad, I like him. Last night he head-butted a squirrel because he said it was looking at him like a queer.
I’ve heard of the scouse brow thing.  Loads of owls think they’re they’re the fucking bollocks now just because they happen to have massive eyebrows as well. I’ve heard Alistair Darling has just been offered a modelling contract for Moschino. Is that true?

What do you think of the Beatles? Which was your favourite? What do you think of the remaining Beatles?
One of FOXUK’s biggest pieces of legislation is the promotion of more vegetarian options in the public sector so that the world isn’t completely fucked in about five years. With that in mind I’ve got to stick with Macca. He’s a good lad but I did see some video he posted online the other day where he started rapping in a Jamaican accent about ‘Meat Free Mondays’. It’s one of the weirdest things I’ve ever seen and isn’t anywhere near as good as most of the songs he wrote with The Beatles. I don’t know what’s wrong with him at the moment but I think he needs a hug.

If you could do one thing to change the world, what would it be? 
Well hopefully I will. Russell Brand tells us not to bother voting so that we can insight a sort of revolution but I say why waste your vote not voting when you can waste in a much funnier way by voting a fox into power? I’ll fuck it up so much that we’ll go back the stone age. It’ll be great. I’ve got a lot of good ideas about animal liberation, ecology and closing tax loopholes in an attempt to try and minimise the fucking ludicrous divide between the rich and the poor but if I could only do one thing to change the world then I’d probably get rid of all the herons. I don’t think we really need them, they don’t contribute that much to society, you barely even see the big lanky cunts and when you do they’re usually saying something racist and stupid. I don’t think we’d really miss them.

Who is the most interesting person you've ever met?
I’d probably say my mate Cwis Packham off the telly. He’s always up to weird and interesting stuff. At the moment  he’s taken to glueing bits of lettuce to every inch of his body 24/7 because he’s got some theory that it’ll make him live forever. He’s weird as well because he’s always banging on about how much he loves birds but his bungalow is full of birds that he’s trained to do different jobs for him like a flock of avian butlers. He’s got a magpie that he’s trained to put the toilet seat up and down, he’s got a chaffinch that can operate the toaster and he’s got all these cockatoos that he calls his ‘whore birtds’ that do all sorts of weird things for him in the bedroom. It’s really odd in Packham’s bungalow. Absolutely covered in bird shit.

Who is the biggest dickhead you've ever met and why? 
David Cameron because he killed and ate my mate Yorrick Todd. Did you know Cameron can fire a web out of his abdomen like a spider. I shouldn’t really be talking about this.

Do you have a celebrity icon? 
Not really. Most celebrities are fucking plums to be honest. The only person I would call an ‘icon’ is this badger I know called Tim Horn and that’s only because he’s got these little denim shorts that he wears with a pretty cool Guns ’N’ Roses belt which, actually, when you consider he’s a badger, doesn’t so much make him an icon as it does a cock.
You met my mate Noel recently. He’s a good lad but last week he sellotaped loads of marbles to the bottom of my paws so I couldn’t walk and then just rolled about laughing at me with milk shooting out of his nose like some kind of enormous arsehole, so I’m not really willing to chalk him down as an icon until he gets his shit together. Noel gave birth to a littler of Staffordshire Bull Terrier Puppies a couple of months ago. No one knows how the fuck that happened and it’s all very hush hush. I bet he didn’t tell you that did he?

Do you have a celebrity that you absolutely loathe? 
Does Jihadi John count as a celebrity yet? That guy’s a right handful isn’t he? Gee whizz.