Gordon Ramsey has no heart.

In the place where a Mortal man would keep such a triviality, he instead harbours a bottomless void from whence nothing can return. This empty, inky mass of nonexistence residing within his being causes an indescribable sensation of agony, hopelessness and despair. It makes him yearn for life, something he has never truly known. And what is more alive than food? The very act of nourishing a body’s vitality, prolonging its existence, as if a metaphor for organic animation itself.

However no matter what he devours, no matter how many kilograms, tonnes and ecosystems Ramsey hurls into the pit, it never fills. For every dish, the void’s infinite being expands by thrice its volume. Every calorie detracts from it ten fold the energy. Gordon Ramsey is not a chef, he is God’s punishment to Chefkind.

No cook, regardless of skill, can satisfy him. None can stand before the abyss, none can stare into it for fear of having their mind wrenched asunder as it stares back. And Remy would learn this all too soon. As Ramsey tosses his food, prepared with so much care and passion, to the side and reaches out. His hand brushing away the hat, bearing his nature as a rodent for all, however this revelation is the least of his worries. For the hand does not stop, the fingers enclose around the vermin’s body. Squeezing from him the very life with which he sought to imbue his food, and dragging him forth. The last thing Remy sees as his life ends is the source of Ramsey’s malice, the bottomless nothingness causing the downfall of chef after chef after chef…. And the last thing he hears is.

“**Finally, some good fucking food.”**

tl;dr- Ramsey is a big mean weenis head.