Now, we certainly have nothing against a little light cosmetic attention to perk things up in one’s forties.
And we obviously have nothing against child-hating, Abercrombie-berating Rupert Everett who has accompanied us to coffee on more than one occasion (no funny business, strictly coffee. Maybe coffee in inverted commas) but even we cannot stand idly by while this happens…
Whilst wowing fans on London’s glittering Broadway in Blythe Spirit opposite Angela Lansbury (we just read that her daughter, when a teen, ran away with Charles Manson’s ‘Family’ – can this be true?) he seems to have slipped on a particularly treacherous bit of cosmetic surgery maybe while out shopping for poppers.
Gone is the weathered English look (albeit with a little face filler, if we’re not mistaken). In its place is smoothness that wouldn’t look out of place on a baby’s back bottom, teeth that look like they’ve been cut out of the white plastic on an old Fairy Liquid bottle and eyes he can barely see out of.
Please Mr. E, for the sake of humanity, stop right there mister.