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Saturday, 20 January 2007

Keep it real

God I hate that phrase. I have said it now, it is over. Phew.......

I was sitting waiting for the tube this afternoon, flicking through my new lovely fresh copy of the Boden catalogue. Despite multiple announcements heralding the 'good service' on the tube this afternoon - ten's of minutes soon ticked past. Tree debris is being hauled off tube and rail lines all over London from yesterdays dreadful wind. I began to take in the full glory of my squalid surroundings.

Right in front of me was an enormous poster of Gavin Henson, advertising a food substitute called 'Promax' which the poster informed me I can purchase from Argos - yes the destination of choice when doing my weekly grocery shop, not. Apparently you too can have a body like Mr Henson if you simply eat the same bird seed or whatever.

I met Mr Henson last year at a rugby tournament sponsored by the company who employ my lovely husband. I just love that word 'tournament' it sounds so manly.

We were invited to attend a Wales vs Ireland game (yawn) in Dublin followed by the after game dinner. Naturally I went shopping while the match was in progress (I just love Brown Thomas on Grafton Street). James was destroyed as Wales lost - poor man. At the after match dinner I was left to converse with the Irish players, and met a dashing chap called Brian O'Driscol. The Irish were a fine looking socially skilled group of men.

In contrast, the Welsh team looked like a crowd of mutants. One chap had wiry red hair, dragged his knuckles on the ground when he walked, spoke in a series of grunts and was the image of 'Captain Cave Man'. Most of the team couldn't use a knife and fork properly and would not have looked out of place in leg irons.

Quite remarkably though Mr Henson was the most disturbing looking player of all. He resembled an Elvis impersonator who had been 'Tango'd'. From his mouth up, he appeared to be suffering some sort of injection induced paralysis. Mr Henson should stay away from tanning booths and injectibles and try to 'keep it real'. The man looks like a cartoon character right down to his inky black hair colour.

I wonder if the consumption of 'Promax' results in hypercarotenaemia or liver failure? That would explain Mr Henson's alarming skin colour. I find it amazing that Mr Henson's image is used in an advertisement for anything. He is just the strangest looking man - and that is even apparent in a setting consisting only of very strange looking men. Promax will certainly never be on the menu for my son. No cauliflower ears for Max, I shall encourage him to play golf. If he does insist on playing rugby, the Irish team are altogether a nicer group of gentlemen.

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