Drew
@drwsplnd
Southend-on-Sea, UK Sys admin. Gym wanker. Tall, but not tall enough to make that my entire personality. From Middlesbrough, via London. 🏳️🌈
The men of Vinted absolutely have my number. They're like "Tshirt for sale!" and the photo is
It was Dolly last night. It wasn't terribly busy and I was anxious about the venue. Really questioned whether to bother with the next one. But then I got this on Instagram, and maybe its being imperfect is the point. I have a duty now, don't I?
Went on a hot date with this slice of beef. LOOK AT HIM. Popped a ring on that one. Here he is texting our beloved @madaram.bsky.social. We got through two bottles of chenin blanc.
I don't want to seem dramatic but the stress and the constant heat of the last month may have taken years off my life.
I always find it Very Cool that, in the right evening light, we can see the Shard and the buildings of Canary Wharf from our little balcony by the sea. I didn't take the photo, Ante did.
Yes I too was at Robyn last night, along with every other fag in the south east of England apparently.
If I were clever and had looked ahead, Madonna would have been the cover star for Dolly next weekend, and I would have stuck Confessions II on for an hour while I got drunk in the DJ box. Alas, I went with Kylie.
Oh I don't know, Gemini. How many grains are in a dram? How many firkins in a hogshead? Can you tell me how many chains are in a furlong? How much land can a yoke of oxen plough in one day?
It's me and @xxxdiggory.bsky.social mere seconds before we fuck you up from both ends.
They're called the Clapham Gay here, and here's a photo I took of their being slightly revolted by me, too. White shoes. 5" inseam in a neutral shade.
Hot D S03E02. Soundtrack by Wuthering Heights-era Charli? Matt Smith's wig by the Witcher? Also: I would speak with Commander Largent.
Pretty dire. In all of May and June I went to the gym twice. Feeling a little trapped in my head and in my body. I probably need therapy but a gym membership is cheaper, so here we are. I need to learn to move again. I took post-gym selfies but I hated and deleted them all.
Finally found a regular barber, one I'm comfortable being around, that asks questions, listens to the answers and gives me exactly what I ask for (not that) and I think I look good! But now I have the urge to shave it all off into a cunty little moustache again.
Oh my god for how many centuries has Polly Toy Bean been saying "No really, Labour will be good this time!"?