Runner's World UK's Kate Carter refuses to resign despite being a proven cheater. Where exactly is her editor-in-chief, Andy "A-Dik" Dixon?

There is no need to be polite to these unrepentant pieces of shit

Kate Carter is a employed as the acting commissioning editor of the United Kingdom version of Runner’s World. This rag clearly has the same mandate as its self-parodic, equally superfluous U.S.-based parent: Employ unintelligent, spineless, talentless, unattractive, and unethical people such as Jeff Dengate and Jennifer Acker to recruit half-literate, “progressive,” and equally poly-nauseating freelancers to craft and sling myths, outright lies, and divisive culture-war fodder and in general promote the precise opposite of sound health or useful running advice.

Because of this shared transatlantic mandate, it was not surprising that Carter was also recently exposed in a slam-dunk way as a rampant, especially determined-but-sloppy cheater. It’s even less surprising that in response, Carter is refusing to ‘fess up, choosing instead to accuse her exposer, Marathon Investigation’s Derek Murphy, of being the liar. This denial came despite Murphy summarily demonstrating that Carter’s attempts to manipulate her own sadly unremarkable perambulatory reality qualified as bumblefuck-at-best level.

Going against form, I would like someone to supply that hag-faced limey slattern with a copy of this article along with the other one I wrote mentioning her antics. I want to see if she finds my writing sufficiently “defamatory and ethically irresponsible” to remark on. I want Kate Carter and every shithole creature like her to understand, if nothing else, just how gracious and diplomatic Murphy in fact has been toward her.

But it’s not about me: I just want Carter and her ilk to fully grasp that, even if Carter retains support among other white harridans—a snarling and yeasty demographic that has infested citizen-level distance running and perfused it with bug-eyed neurotic vibes and obvious, throbbing insecurities—those of us who remain serious about both this sport and any related “journalism,” and it’s a mostly quiet but sizable crowd, see her for the capering, shameful shitbird she is.

And they all have some kind of excuse. Always. It’s time for us to shove those back in these cheaters’ faces hard enough to crack a few teeth and elicit cries of frank, pissy dismay. Fuck ‘em.

Also, a man named Andy Dixon—who reportedly prefers to be called by the much jauntier handle “A-Dik”—has supposedly been the editor-in-chief of Runner’s World’s U.K. version since 2007. These days, he lists his top priorities are mental health and “me-time,” which in this bloke’s case seem to be at cross purposes.

Where is Andy Dixon’s flaccid self in this bloody mess? Do they really get drunk all day over there, and pass out without ever brushing their teeth or exposing themselves to what little sunlight is available even in mid-June, or is that a bunch of poppycock and bafflegab?

What about any of the other anemic-looking staff members listed on the Runner’s World U.K. “Contact Us” page? (At least the U.K. version has such a page. The stinking, overly slimed-up pussies who head up the American version don’t even provide e-mail addresses, a sign of how keenly aware people like Dengate and Acker are of their own mismanagement, laziness, hollow-headedness, shadiness, and consequent fitness for very high swan dives unsupported by safety nets.)

From the standpoint of anyone sane, Runner’s World’s parent publisher should have shut the entire cancerous shambles of an operation down as soon as one of its articles invited people to not just mask but double-mask while running outdoors, and then they should have pressured everyone in the company to—you guessed it—leap from the top of the highest available structure with their heads resolutely aimed at the concrete below while yelling “FUCK! I’M SORRY! FUCK! I’M SORRY!” rather than seek new, equally invalid employment.

But from the standpoint of a typical American left-leaning news consumer, who has a functional IQ of 71 to 73 (basically retarded, albeit not profoundly so) and still dropping, that kind of bullshit even today was “just taking all the necessary precautions because we* didn’t know yet.” So, these kinds of publications, regardless of their continents of origin, will continue to flourish until we’re all too fat and stupid to even use standard “smartphones.”