First off, can we just get something off our chest… there, that’s better.
So this True Blood thing. Now normally we’re so ahead the game we’ve ordered the preview tapes, numbered the stars in order of bummable-ness, been hit with a restraining order, had a themed party and dropped a dress size before the show’s even aired on the proverbial tellybox but this one? Slipped by like a very slippy thing. In spite of all the right people in all the right sunglasses telling us we must watch. But instead we drank.
So to make up for it, we’ll be watching ’em all on a loop on, ooh, maybe Tuesday unless that Finnish bit on the side pulls his thumb out and actually honours that date thing (don’t you just hate it when people go all personal reference-y on one’s ass? Rude is what it is. And ‘dates’? How 1998 is that?).
And also, in the lean-mean-fat-reducing-grilling-machine time, we have some pictures of Alexander Skarsgard’s tits and arse to share with y’all. That’s ‘you all’ in another language. They’re there, after the jumpette.
And that, ladies and gentlemen and others, is called a story made out of almost nothing. Except tits ‘n’ ass. Which is everything to us.
*points at ‘Continues’ button*
And like it’s any of our business, but these pics are taken from Generation Kill. We never saw that, neither. Ooh, double negatives…
True Blood? Not seen it, soz. But we do have pictures of that Alexander Skarsgard bloke's arse. Hoo and ray.,