Venom-in literary form

Christopher Hitchens is one amazing guy. A man of many talents, the one I admire the most is his incredible dexterity using the English language, both verbal and written. His talent has been displayed in many areas, but his skill with the venomous pen is also wonderful to behold. I have read here and there the great insults of the age, but there has been a long decline in the form and the foremost practioners are nearly extinct. So it warmed my heart greatly to see Hitchens take up arms, as it were, against the verminous George Galloway and produce as polished an ad hominem as I have seen in a long time, and damn the consequences.

I despise George Galloway and his position (prone) on Iraq, but I must thank him for prodding Hitchens to produce this gem:

Galloway's preferred style is that of vulgar ad hominem insult, usually uttered while a rather gaunt crew of minders stands around him. I have a thick skin and a broad back and no bodyguards. He says that I am an ex-Trotskyist (true), a "popinjay" (true enough, since its original Webster's definition means a target for arrows and shots), and that I cannot hold a drink (here I must protest). In a recent interview he made opprobrious remarks about the state of my midriff, which I will confess has—as P.G. Wodehouse himself once phrased it—"slipped down to the mezzanine floor." In reply I do not wish to stoop. Those of us who revere the vagina are committed to defend it against the very idea that it is a mouth or has teeth. Study the photographs of Galloway from Syrian state television, however, and you will see how unwise and incautious it is for such a hideous person to resort to personal remarks. Unkind nature, which could have made a perfectly good butt out of his face, has spoiled the whole effect by taking an asshole and studding it with ill-brushed fangs.

I despair of ever writing anything to compare to this.