Let us tell you a little story. You may want to write this one down.
It’s 19*cough* and we’re sat on a dirty old chair in a pungent hallway of some Victorian whatever school in the *cough* of England. Okay it was the north. Happy now? Some people are born great, others have to move, etc… Anyway, so there we were, hair in bunches, legs swinging along to the showtunes in our head, waiting to be summoned into our very first career’s advice seminar. Then we were summoned. (Admit it, you’re hooked already…!)
‘Hello, sir, what would you like to be when you grow up?’ said the career’s advice personette.
We gave him-her a list of options, which went thus:
a) a gay
b) artist’s muse
c) one of those people who pats Mac Blotting Powder onto hot rugby players’ arses at that time in the future when hot rugby players agree to get their kit off and swing their balls for the masses on a beach, mostly in black and white, sometimes in colour.
d) a gay
He-she licked the tip of his-her HB pencil, looked us up and down a la repulsed hooker, slapped us in the face (it was still allowed then) and pointed to the door.
And in conclusion, we achieved at least three out of those four. Shove that up your jacksy and eat it, career’s advice personette…
Oh, yeah, almost forgot. After the break you’ll find some skillfully right-clicked-and-saved homoereotic pictures from Dieux du Stade 2005, as well as the whole thing in moving picture format. Kitten-soft Andrex at the ready…
*white wees, etc.*
A retro nudity moment. We loves one o' those.,