Spencer Matthews – you remember his penis, right? – has written a piece, which is newspaper speak for ‘piece’, in the Daily Mail, which is newspaper speak for ‘badly-subbed cuntish drivel’.
The Daily Mail describes Spencer Matthews’ – you remember his penis, right? – piece as ‘witty’. But then this is the newspaper that thinks Liz Jones is the greatest writer since wafer-thin Ryvita biscuits first floated down the River Thames on the back of a pig’s rat’s arse.
We saw Liz Jones, chance would have it, at the Drapers Arms in London’s glittering Islington this Sunday just gone. Our American bum-chum, who had absolutely no idea who the woman was/is/could be/wishes she was, quipped, ‘She’s still in her Halloween costume, right?’ (She wasn’t.)
In it, he describes the ups and downs, tops and bottoms, knees and toes of growing a moustache – on your face! – in aid of charity.
‘Unless you have been living in a cave for the past ten years you will of course know that Movember is a charity fundraiser for men to grow a sponsored moustache for Prostate and Testicular Cancer and mental illness throughout the month of November,’ he explains, as the world gasps.
‘It might take about a week before you have enough growth to define a good tache,’ he advises, as the world grieves the apostrophe that once stood before tache.
‘Sometime after the 1970s, the previously virile statement of manliness that is the moustache got sidelined in the fashion stakes and is now only socially acceptable in South America, Cuba and Old Compton Street in Soho,’ he cliched, as the world was reminded just how much of a cunt Spencer Matthews – penis, anyone? Anyone? – is.
Spencer Matthews on moustaches. It's like the round table at The Algonquin. ,