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The apex of adulation


London town is a ruthless tyrant. One minute you’re at the very apex of adulation – radiant amongst the flash-bulbs, accepting offers of free watery vodka and fists of chilli lime peanuts, velvet bags of precious stones at your beck and call. The next, you’re homeless, living in a nest of newspaper, tickling businessmen’s bumholes for chips.

Fortunately, it was all about the watery vodka last night. Centrefold Magazine’s issue 10 launch party was awash with Ciroc and beards.

There were big pictures all over the wall, taken with the sponsor’s Nokia Lumia electronic telephone. Some of the pictures had, you know, nude bits and stuff in. But in an arty way. Not rude. I mean, you could definitely see all sorts of bare stuff, but the people staring at them were really serious, so you could tell it was arty.


All this went down in fashionable London’s fashionable Shoreditch. So, I snapped up a bunch of steezy bros for you to gaze at. But first up, here’s a very brief video of the internet’s Bip Ling. She operated the disc jockey equipment at the event and danced around a bit. She is good at both those things.

Now here’s some of last night’s brahs looking all smart and dandy.










After the bash, on the way back to the tube, I passed a homeless bro sitting in a t-shirt and a sort of nappy. His arms had sores on them and he had a small jar full of pennies in his lap.

“Spare some change mate?” he said, sniffing.

“Brotherman…” I said. “I hear you.  Things be mad toughness right now.  But you straight trippin if you think I can drop my papes into your life.”

“Baby, can’t you see I totally just went large on these McNairy/Adidas colabs? Gotta keep my steez strong. Y’understan right…?”

I didn’t say that at all.

I gave him a tenner.

And walked home feeling extremely lucky.

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