Give us an ‘s’. Give us an ‘n’. Give us an… Oh you know where this is heading…

His name is Ben and he is bigWe know you just want to get to the wank-mag material of owcha magowchas in pantaloons, but come on, we wouldn’t be glittering Londoners if we didn’t put up an obligatory snow story. So here be it.

Before the cold hearted stirrings of uh-we-are-so-over-the-snow begin, let us sit back and enjoy the joyous sheen that fills our lives now that London has finally got some snow. As in real-live snow. As in ‘eight whole inches were measured in Westminster’ snow. As in, ‘No smug friends in Americaland, we aren’t wet-weeing ourselves over some pissing sludge this time’ snow.

Granted, it will be irritating that we can’t get to that Pilates class because London’s transport system seems to entirely cease working at the drop of a hat slash leaf slash snowflake. And no, we aren’t keen on the Stay Puft marshmallow man look on ourselves or our neighbourly eye candy, but hey ho. For now at least, let us take pleasure in the kind of white powder that won’t made us grind our teeth to stumps.

Oh and in case you’re innerested, the compulsory owcha magowchas are after the wintry jump. Huzzah!

Gooday mate Men in pants c/o yesterday’s Melbourne Gay Pride. Wish we were there? Er, char!
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 0.0/10 (0 votes cast)

More dolly #content:

One comment to “Give us an ‘s’. Give us an ‘n’. Give us an… Oh you know where this is heading…”

  1. I can’t remember the last time I saw eight inches in Westminster – actually there was that time with Paddy Ashdown after hours in the members bar

    VA:F [1.9.22_1171]
    Rating: 0.0/5 (0 votes cast)

Leave a comment