Leafing through the magazines as I have the obligatory after pub rest on the porcelain, I pick up the Saturday Times Magazine, article extolling Juicy Couture.
"let's just say that blokeishly handsome types tend to be Juicy connoisseurs (Mr Richie, Mr Martin and Mr Brody). I mention this merely to illustrate that men's men seem to like this kit"
Well obviously I'm not a man's man then as I have never lusted after "velour low-slung bottoms and teensy zippered Barbie like hoods" and those names. Mr Richie I recognise as a Mockney who bought a decent Wiltshire shooting estate with his wife the slapper - now I wouldn't be rude about him if an invite to a high bird day was on the table but with a mantelpiece bereft of an invite I can be. Twat. Mr Martin, I presume is the singer of angsty songs in a group I can't remember the name of but the CD drones on at every Dinner party, and isn't he walking out with some long necked small brained American actress? So that makes two "men's men" who are at the beck and call of their American Mistresses! And Mr Brody - who is he?brody - Google Image Search gives me no clues. Is it Adam, Adrien or Jed? Guessing by her other choices of "men's men" it is probably Jed.
So if I'm not a Man's man what am I?