To the left, to the left we have Mark Bradshaw, composer, and for the past year husband of Ben Wishaw, actor, genius and lone coffee-sipper most Sunday mornings down Columbia Road, London’s glittering East End. It’s like the Hollywood Hills round there, come to come on it. If it’s not Keira Knightley fingering the over-priced reclaimed furniture down the courtyard, it’s Eddie Redmayne hob-nobbing with the hob-nobs down the Nelson’s Head of a Saturday eve. Just don’t tell Vogue magazine. We don’t want those cunts ruining it for everyone else.
So Ben Wishaw entered into a civil partnership with Mark Bradshaw last year in Mark’s homeland of Australia. As we speak, some chunks in an Evans maxi-dress at New! magazine is busy coming up with a moniker for the pair, along the lines of ‘Shaw-Shaw’ or ‘Men’ or ‘Bark’ or ‘See-saw’ or ‘Shaw squared’ or other assorted bollocks. Only difference being, these two aren’t fame-whores.
And c) and d).
Look at Ben Wishaw and his big gay husband!,