boldsans

By rubyjones

World of Calendar

No. Sir Cliff. No.

You may be the fucking Peter Fucking Pan of Pop.
But I do not want to see you in a fucking wet t-shirt frollicking in the surf.
No I fucking don't.

Your crepey neck and botoxed forehead though tastefully retouched, won't look any better for being drenched in sweat in your bollocks fake gym and tight lycra pants (October), your dyed hair and cheeky orange Max Factor smile still look shit in a spiritual yet semi see-through Indian style outfit (April). And as for you playing with fake snowballs in a Dickensian setting (December)....

And anyway, who the fuck is this Calendar aimed at?
Susan Boyle? Dale Winton? The ghost of Christmas fucking past?

Sir Cliff, you are a National Treasure, take a fucking long hard look at yourself.
Do you see Alan Bennett on Gok Wan's How to look Good Naked?

Next time someone suggests a calendar Sir Cliff, just ask yourself:
What would Jesus do?

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