If we were in a cover meeting on a glossy men’s magazine which is not known for its gay leanings *pats hair, Mae West stylee; you know the routine* and the work experience suggested Sacha Baron Cohen in the guise of professional homosexual Bruno as our cover star, we’d firstly edge ourselves backwards towards the wall in case said workie had designs on us in the bumming sense of the word, then we’d point to the door – and not in the Diana-Ross,-with-love kind of way.
‘IT WON’T SELL!’ we’d scream, then we’d take a deep breath through the nose and scream again, ‘IT WON’T SELL!’ then we’d take a deep breath through the nose and scream again, ‘KITTENS! I NEED KITTENS!’ then we’d take a deep breath through the anus and scream again, ‘GET ME THE TRANSCRIPT FOR THE NEW HARRY POTTER BOOK THAT HASN’T EVEN BEEN WRITTEN YET!’ then we’d take a deep breath through someone else entirely and do something completely out of character like a cartwheel for light relief.
In conclusion, fuck knows if the GQ readership will buy it, but we’re lovin’ it all the same. So much, in fact, we dropped the ‘g’.