To me, rejection slips are always saying:
The very notion that you were fuckwitted enough to think we'd want to publish your bilge has kept us laughing this week. And not just the whole office. We told everyone down the pub too. And they went home and told their wives. If you ever come to Clerkenwell, the entire suburb will be rocking with laughter at your presumption. Small children will pelt you with stones and women will make snide comments about your penis. Even the dogs will show their contempt by mobbing you and pissing on your leg. Which is attached to an ugly contemptible body, housing a brain that it would be charitable to describe as fifth-rate.
You're not even worth telling to fuck off. That's why we used a form letter. Everyone else gets tips. You got the paper I wiped my arse with.