March 2013 – Volpe Newsletter

Posted on March 30, 2013 by volpeadrian

March Newsletter 2013

Let’s get the weather out of the way first. It has been very, very cold and very, very grey and I know we are all fed up with it. Those of you who have managed to get away will mean once again I am deluged with “Out of Office” replies.

However have you thought that the minute the sun bursts forth, the too tight t-shirt, Birkenstocks, shorts and hairy leg brigade will be out in force? Not in such a hurry for the first shafts of sunlight now methinks.

OK, so I’m getting this one out a little early, but I’m off to Ibiza, and given the state I might be in, it might make even less sense than normal. Is that an incredible Burt Wonderstone mushroom I see before me? Quick call the police. On second thoughts no, the first two albums were OK, but then Stu started chucking drumsticks. Good shot! I will never play their music in the shop again. Well apart from Peanuts, but I have my reasons.

For those of you who read and remember my newsletters, my ‘D’ list celebrity friend is now a street artist on the island. There is a little patch of concrete by the marina where he plies his trade. He will be painted aubergine it’s this summer’s hot colour! He just lies there prone like a strange shaped vegetable, either that or he fell asleep and people started dropping coins onto his pile of clothes. He was trying to fashion one of those ‘fakir’ poses whereby he looked suspended in mid-air, but then the stick broke! Gone are the days of Panto, glitter and glamour.

Remember, I have no ‘A’ or ‘B’ list celebrity friends or customers, but we did have someone wear one our suits in “Skyfall”. It was only confirmed recently so I didn’t want to tempt fate.

To some it may seem I am a little too loose tongued in my newsletters, but I choose my topics carefully. I have a huge ego, so it’s all about me as you know too well, and now I have started a book about my colourful life. I shall not be inviting Wazzer Rooney to ghost write it.

Ibiza you ask. Well, I gave in, I was going to leave this trip until the end of May, but given the weather here, I couldn’t delay it any longer. It is for work! We are tattooing leather for a couple of clients, so I’m going to drop some off and pick some up, and do a fitting for a suit. Neil is carving skulls, plus clouds, some lotus flowers, perhaps even a butterfly into the shoes of the good and the great.

Charlie will be so pleased to get his shoes back, that’s such an Ibiza name isn’t it? Photos will be available on the blog, and on Facebook, for those of you who are allowed accounts.

I may add to my collection, but the customer always comes first. In my case it will not be shoes, it will be tattoos of the flesh. Neil thinks my latest design is a little effeminate, not the word he used, but I think this way is a little more polite. I’ll run it past Eugene he’s driven down from Copenhagen to spend a few days. There is a bar in the marina where a drink is named after him, and after my last visit when we were all together in September, I have absolutely no idea what it was called, or maybe I just can’t remember! If I call you at 5am to wake you, just ignore me.

One thing I can guarantee is that we won’t be sleeping a lot, but will I don the mankini? I think it will be Pacha, Amnesia, Pacha, Amnesia, Pacha, Amnesia. Sorry where was I? Then I won’t be able to pass up a foam party, and head off delirious to DC10 where I shall jump up and down trying to grab the undercarriage of incoming planes. You know I’m high on life.

Stop press…. Mateo can’t make it he will be spending Easter with the lovely Cristina, so the mankini will be mine! But, Martin from Argentina will be there, now the wheels will certainly come off. I have photos of him snorkelling in the snow in Verbier, wearing nothing more than a smile. At least that’s what it seemed like, but it was hard to tell it was so cold and he was face down. As a very good friend of mine would say “Bere”, it’s a great shame that on this occasion she won’t be joining us, hopefully next time.

I’ll be back Tuesday night, with Ryanair!!!!!! I know, never say never. It was the only way I could get back to meet some friends who are coming from Italy for a month to learn English, but I will not be teaching them, I shall leave that to a professional.

With regard to last month, some of you were a little confused about the 24 not 22 comment, and one or two of you gave some quite surprising suggestions. Let me lay rumours to rest. The 24 bus takes me from home to Vash and back again, and the 22 goes past The Wolseley, I use the 24 not the 22. Thank you for the flattering remarks.

I supply the newsletter in printed form, in a plain brown envelope to one particular lady (she views me as her toy boy, she is after all hmmmm years old), because she says, and I quote “she finds them a little racy”. Once read they are shredded so hubby doesn’t see them. Well hush my mouth I didn’t think I was being that particular shade of grey. Let’s just hope she can cope with the book I’ve just given her as a present.

And finally and this is not a joke. We are now offering a new service we are hand washing and finishing your knitwear, so you can store all your cashmere and merino wool for the summer months, when they finally arrive. There will be a small charge, but I know that many of you are a little worried by the prospect of looking after your cashmere, so I thought this might help you.

To err is human to forgive is? Well sometimes forgiveness is deserved, sometimes earned, but should be given with an open heart. Gandhi said that the weak can never forgive; forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.

Photographs of the trip will follow upon my return!

June 2011 – Volpe Newsletter

Posted on June 23, 2011 by volpeadrian

After another thrilling bout of end of season excitement Jake has returned blinking into the daylight after hiding under the stairs, only to find out that little Shrek has had a hair transplant. At least Wayne has had the good grace to man up to it, like those prostitute tales. I hate it when people resort to superinjunctions.

I can’t wait for Wayne to be sporting dreadlocks by Poznan 2012. He’s certainly looking a lot more cheerful these days.

Do you know how long it took me to get Jake back to work? I’m going to have to coax him back out again by promising not to jinx Wolves again, and with all the preseason transfer speculation, it’s not as though they don’t need any help. That’s it, I’m banning him from Twitter.

Where’s that? I hear you ask. Don’t worry, I had to look it up too. It’s in Poland and is accessible via Ryanair from Liverpool, a match made in heaven, and fine for Stevie G.

After complaints about the erratic delivery of the newsletters, please be aware that henceforth I shall dispense with formal dates and just send them when the mood suits.

I even got a text asking how I determine when the mood suits and what goes on in the darkest recesses of my warped mind in order to stir the creative juices to a point where they start to flow. I’ve paraphrased the message because producing it verbatim would cause spam filters to explode, which kind of gives you a clue to the content.

Some of you have asked if I’ve been taking steroids to create my pumped look. I didn’t know you cared, well except the person who sent me the text, and of course my stalker. And the customer whose inside leg I was measuring. But that’s a story for another newsletter. The answer is no. It is nothing more than a good healthy diet and lots of exercise under the instruction of my trainer Otaniyien.

One of you who asked is Welsh. Look you, you more than most should know how much effort it takes to chase sheep, especially the young and frisky ones at this time of year.

I’ve nearly got the application of the protective screen to my iPad to a point where it no longer looks like deflated bubble wrap, and no, it’s not one large bubble that covers the entire screen, have some faith, please. Sadly for you lot I can now read what I am typing. Up to this point these have just been a fortuitous collection of key strokes falling into place.

Anyway, the sun is out, the sky is blue, there’s not a cloud to spoil the view……Yes, you get the idea, I’m travelling again. Back to Rome this time to work on next summer’s collection. So soon I hear you cry, but darlinks, I vork in fashion where nothing is qvite vhat it seems, and where Zoolander is more documentary than parody.

It’s not as if we’ve enjoyed the giddy heights of this years’ June downpour, a covered up Centre Court, and the bumper strawberry crop infecting everyone with a new and exotic strain of bug. Well rather that than a Teutonic cucumber (yes, I know it was bean sprouts, but when has the image they convey ever been funny?).

Jason at the Wolseley asked me to resend May’s Newletter, because his iPhone crashed, and he missed his mention him in that one. I duly obliged on condition that he never sits me next to……………”Mr super injunction” and “Miss super injunction” again. It’s not as though I can repeat a word they said.

But wait, spare a thought for Anthony Weiner, and his lover and aspiring actress in the adult field, Ginger Lee. I mean, is that how they do it? Ginger Lee? And is someone not pronouncing his name correctly? I thought it was always “i” before “e”, but perhaps we should consult a linguist. You couldn’t make it up could you? Well I could, but could I do any better than a Jodie Foster film about Mel Gibson and a beaver?

Now for the plug. Oh, for goodness sakes sit down at the back. You really are a rowdy lot.

Mark Williams of Mail Shot International has been our courier service both domestic and international for some time. They offer a very efficient and friendly service, and I feel he deserves a mention for the heroics he undertakes. And he never asks what we really put in the parcels.

Finally, Greg is off to the wedding in Florence, so we wish him well. He contemplated flouting the dress code, but I talked him down. At least he will now wear something in the heat.

Stop press: Olympic ticket allocation, badminton, basketball, tae kwan do, handball, basketball, and wait for it……..women’s beach volleyball. Everybody I had asked had applied for these tickets, but these are mine and not for sharing…… unless!

October 2010 – Volpe Newsletter

Posted on October 30, 2010 by volpeadrian

Ahh, November beckons – the month of bonfires and poppies and fireworks through pensioners’ letterboxes. But it’s not here yet and squeaking under the wire with moments to spare is the Volpe October newsletter. It’s like an episode of 24 here but with harsher curses than: ‘Dammit.’

I’ve been holding out because, erm, because it has taken until the end of the month for the one bit of good news to appear. After a month when sterling performed consistently against the Euro in a downwards motion, you might think that the bright star in the firmament was the growth figures.

Well, I must stop you there. Once again you have all jumped the gun. But logging into the BBC website to see those hillocks and Mariana Trenches is what makes business so very exciting.

Still, things are going well for the lad Rooney which is excellent news for someone or other – off the top of my head, Age Concern (Ladies’ Division).

Sticking with football: it was tragic to hear of the passing of World Cup guru, Paul the Psychic Octopus, who was found floating at the top of his tank in Germany this week. A moment’s respect and then pass the lemon juice.

Pop quiz: How many legs does an octopus have? Think carefully. Answer at the end.

In showbiz news: the Take That tour dates have been released if any of you were thinking of popping along for a bit of swooning. No, not me either. Truly, the gods of rock are back. Those of you who know the windows will know that Robbie Williams has loomed large, scary. (No, not Robin Williams, but thanks Jake, for reminding everybody of the likeness). He hogged the limelight as usual, but at least he doesn’t owe me any money.

As for other Rock Gods I have known – Lee Ryan, he does owe me money, he owes me the pound I lent him for the parking meter outside the shop; George Michael, it’s okay mate, I don’t want anything for fixing your Walkman on the steps of Uomo Regine in 1983, not even one your funny cigarettes; and Nick Heyward from ‘80s chunky knits Haircut 100, you owe me more than mortal man can ever repay.

Back when a certain much-loved actress was just a fledgling rock chick I was Nick’s wing man and selflessly drew her fire on to me for friendship’s sake. What can I say except, that I’m a great mate?

At this point I have mention Jason at the Wolseley. He was a little miffed that he featured after other people in the last newsletter. Granted, he still features after several other people but this time I’m singling him out for special attention. We’ll make you famous, if you consider this news letter fame. Perhaps it’s infamy you’re after?

Jason, you are one of my top Jasons of all time, possibly joint top with Jason of the Argonauts. Anyway, infinitely better than Jason Orange from Take That and you even pip Jason King from Department S which was one of my favourite TV programmes. Wikipedia it, you young ‘uns.

Anyway, just one of Jason’s legion strong points is that he continues to seat me at better tables than He Who Shall Not Be Named. Meanwhile my other celebrity is in rehearsal for Panto season, and I’m sure it’s him who keeps phoning me, blowing on his vuvuzuela and hanging up. And please, stop asking me who they are or I’ll have to hit you with a super injunction like my friend the TV presenter who’s entertaining his ex-wife. My lips are sealed.

By the way, is that anything like the omnipresent Superdry? Damn, they even made it into my newsletter with their trendy anoraks and t-shirts. How do they do it? I don’t even stock the damn stuff. Leave the envelope by the door guys. Job done.

Now, I was hoping that my friend Mark may have done something spectacular to brighten the month. You know, the guy who drinks the mini bar dry and then does a decent impression of a corpse found at the scene of a particularly debauched party.

Even Neil has been quiet. All he requires is to renew his visa for India, where I’m sure, in the most spiritual way possible he will climb a mountain in total silence, attempt to tattoo his eyeballs whilst hallucinating, intoxicated from smoking lichen collected from the north face of said mountain and blinded by staring at the sun, trying to work out how many hours of daylight he has left. If any of you have met Neil and stared deep into his eyes, you’ll know what I mean. As Pink said to us he has a fantastic bedside manner. “He stares at possible punters from his office (a table outside Cafe Tomate), and then only tattoos the ones who are too frightened to move, or those who are too stoned to run away.” Really, he is a very nice and talented guy.

Pop quiz answer: According to marine biologists, two. The other six limbs are arms used for feeding. Where else can you get top quality clothing and fascinating facts? All part of the service.

June 2010 – Volpe Newsletter

Posted on June 28, 2010 by volpeadrian

We wuz robbed, I tell you. And I’m not talking about the Budget, of which more later.

Like Don Fabio, I’ll brook no dissent. Mi casa, my rules. We were much the better side. Just look at the statistics and you know my thoughts on that.

Apparently Capello sent the team on to the pitch with the rousing cry: ‘Let’s make English football history.’ I feel that got lost in translation.

It seems even Paul the psychic octopus from the Sea Life Aquarium predicted a German win. Yeah, well let’s see how he fares against Spain where they like fried squid rings.

But as I said we were so much the better side; even my wife agrees and as I know by now, she is never wrong.

There was a moment during England’s nail-biting journey to oblivion on Sunday night when she shouted: ‘Lamps’ at the TV.

I share Don Fabio’s dislike of infantile footballing nicknames, and unless she was describing what she wanted Fat Frank to do to the assistant referee, then divorce beckons if she ever uses such a word again. And I’ll sue for alimony if she says Wazza.

Still, there are upsides to Sunday’s match.

The WAGs were waiting until this week to go out so no pictures of them shopping and falling off bar stools.

And the James Corden’s World Cup Party may be in for an early bath which means an end to the canvassing of opinions of such football geniuses a Pixie Lott by a smug fat bloke in a suit two sizes too small for him. I’m with Patrick Stewart there.

As you know at the end of May I visited Rome again. This time it was just for the day to visit a shoe wholesaler who refused to deal with me over the phone or via email. What strange world we live in. It’s right up there with: ‘The donkey’s sick, so I can’t get the parcel to the UPS office.’ Yes, a supplier has used that excuse. However it wasn’t an entirely wasted trip, I ate a decent lunch and spent some of the day with one of my best friends Max Pietrolucci, and even did a little sightseeing.

However a journey I will be making this month will be back to Ibiza. Those of you who think I have a home there, sorry to disappoint, and if I did, no you couldn’t use it. Also for those of you who have attempted to photograph me under the influence of something that isn’t wheatgrass, waving glo sticks like a five year old would sparklers, again you’ll be disappointed. Neil “the tattooist” has informed me that he will go back to doing stars, geckos, dolphins etc, because as yet I have not agreed to have the roof of the Sistine Chapel in miniature on my back. He has also offered both Eugenia and Carla summer jobs as his receptionist, and I don’t believe it, they are contemplating accepting. Now Eugenia has “previous” for this kind of arrangement. All I can say to her is remember what happened last time.

Not that I’m not going to dwell on it but yesterday’s referee Jorge Larrionda also has “previous” for “over the line” incidents. In 2004 he deprived Brazil of a winner so they drew 0-0 with Colombia in a World Cup qualifier. He once told an interviewer “I hope I never see the day when technology arrives that can help or replace the job I do”. Also in 2002 he was suspended by Uruguay’s FA for unspecified alleged irregularities that meant he was unable to officiate at the 2002 World Cup. Not that I’m bitter.

A thank you is due to Matthew who bought me some chocolates back from Bologna, a kind and unnecessary gesture, but he is a kind and thoughtful chap. I thought he’d go far, but then flattery and presents always bring out the best in me. The latest 3D gadgets wouldn’t go amiss.

This month we also lost Sam to Hong Kong once more. The family soon to follow and I must admit I will miss Xavier’s Saturday morning attempts to total the Ferrari. Sam and Claire be warned, let him loose with a Playstation before he gets his hands on the real thing. The new Test Drive game will be based in Ibiza, so next year it will be full of kids, driving dad’s Nissan Micra lit from underneath with blue neon, ear splitting music blaring from open windows. So nothing will really change. Oh dear, I do sound old.

Now, my friend who has admitted in the past that he was a suit short of a week still is according to him. He feels that a racy little linen number to complete his collection of linens would fit the bill. Not that I want to turn away business or condemn excess in any way, because that would be commercial suicide. I just don’t think that he’s likely to have five consecutive days of sunshine in this country. Apologies, this week has proved me wrong, but mark my words it won’t last.

The customer is king has always been my motto; or one of them. Maybe I’ll make a list of my mottos and add them to next month’s newsletter.

So were you a winner or loser in the Budget – or more accurately, a loser or a really big loser?

I’m still mulling it over so I’ll hand over to Sheherazade Goldsmith, the gorgeous ex-wife of billionaire Zac, newly-minted MP for Richmond.

It would be vulgar to speculate on the sheer tonnage of Mrs Goldsmith’s divorce settlement but it’s clear that even she feels some belt-tightening is in order.

‘If you grow your own raspberries, pick them and make them into jam, it’s a very satisfying feeling,’ she said recently.

‘Much more satisfying than buying it from Fortnum & Mason.’

A sentiment with which we can all agree, and as English as a World Cup defeat.

For those of you who have asked about my mystery “celebrity”. Well, he is currently staying on at the World Cup owing to a promotional role. I felt it would be too cruel to ask which particular animal he would be dressed as, but it would certainly need to be one of the veldt’s larger inhabitants, if only to accommodate his ego. He has been muttering about how poor Brien Blessed’s contribution has been, well at least his voice will be heard above the vuvuzelas.

April 2010 – Volpe Newsletter

Posted on April 19, 2010 by volpeadrian

OK Sam, I know it’s later than you want. At least I’m not stuck in some faraway land with no means of returning home. You’ll have to wait for June and my first trip to Ibiza for that.

STOP PRESS Apologies – BREAKING NEWS – Winter over: David bares all: the legs are out of hibernation.

This month I have visited Rome, if only to take some tips from “Dear” Silvio on how to run the country. I had to postpone it from last month because of the British Airways strike, and have narrowly missed being brought down by a belching volcano expelling large amounts of hot air into the atmosphere. Well, I was going to leave the politicians out of this. OK, OK, but it’s a joke and everybody has used it! Thanks everybody for the Ashley and Cheryl Cole jokes, sadly you know I can’t put any of them in here.

The election has just been called and Sky has been wall-to-wall polls, the Skycopter is up, and I love statistics, because you can say what with you want with them and you’re not lying. As for the leaders’ debates, I have busied myself with other things if only not to look upon Gordon’s saddened face, Dave’s smoothed brow or Nick’s laconic approach. Have you noticed how much like one of my customers he looks? He’s not, but the resemblance is uncanny, I wonder if his wife knows? Anyway I feel that at this point the Dark Lord deserves a mention, only because he will be reading this, and I know he’d like me to mention that his bite is much worse than his bark, and yes, Peter you can take it as a compliment.

Anyways to take your minds off the manifesti, but enough of Italian, perhaps like mine a higher purpose calls me.

I do not disagree that Lionel Messi has little to prove as the world’s current greatest player, but he has learnt well, possibly at the knee of his mother or a maiden aunt, the skill of the swoon. CR9 may well have learnt well at the knee of an uncle, whilst feasting on a Werther’s Original, it’s those chubby cheeks, you know. He could stay down for hours, or just long enough for the Ref to brandish the card of his payee’s choice. In my day, (O, callow youth) what would revive you quicker was the application of smelling salts or a cold sponge with a spot of Ralgex to your tender parts (when I was young it was called Wintergreen. Such a stupid name because for a while after this it would be forever autumn). Stand down those of you who find this less of a punishment and more of a revival technique.

As the footie season draws to a close poor old Wayne wanted a rest from running around doing his job and Dimitar’s, and went down like a sack of spuds (nothing to do with his looks). Now I thought at the time that the acting was of quality seen only by my “celebrity” “actor “ “friend”. By now I think we can cross out all three, because come Panto time I’ll be off the Christmas card list.

Now you may have been following my one-sided correspondence with my “celebrity””actor” “friend”, and he has now said that what he did was not “Strictly Panto”. Now I can imagine production companies everywhere wondering if I they can get this scheduled and out by next Christmas. Me and my big mouth. He also pleaded with me to stop texting him “Macbeth”, well you must have seen Blackadder.

This month we will be featuring some film recommendations from my 86-year-old mother-in-law. Now stop with the jokes, that’s my domain. She’s now to be known as Hardcore Mother-in-Law.

March 2010 – Volpe Newsletter

Posted on March 15, 2010 by volpeadrian

March has arrived and preparations, or at least media speculation for the World Cup is in full swing. I’ll leave discussing the General Election until next month. It will guarantee that I have something to write about, and perhaps someone on one side or the other will have decided what they might want to do once they have charge of the piggy bank and the hammer.

My apologies if you do not share our obsession with the failure with the English national side. If it makes it easier, Scots aside, it would be as easy to insert any national side instead of our own, and in place of the World Cup, your competition of choice. I am sure the sentiments would be the same. Unless of course you are Canadian, and contrive to ensure that the playing surface suits only your team, and in the case of Americans, games that only you play.

After all, we are talking of infighting in the squad, last minute injuries to key players and before long an incident in a nightclub involving, well I can only leave you to guess. Fingers crossed and just hope that Wayne Rooney’s monthly salary, which is far too large to write on the back of a postage stamp is enough to keep him motivated. What does sound greater the current rumoured £150,000 per week or £600,000 per month? We revel in the vain hope that we may win if only, everything and luck is on our side, that Stevie G and Fat Frank can play together because it’s clear that John and Bridgie can’t and now won’t, or only with each other’s toys. And of course that the WAGS stay in Sun City, perhaps, happy in the company of lifeguards, waiters and pool boys, apologies if these are among your chosen professions I do not wish this suffering upon you.

As you know from the last news letter I recently travelled to Milan. I stayed in some apartments close to the Duomo, and the Galleria. It’s many years since I have visited this fair city; more like, I’ve tried to avoid it as best I can. As I suspected Milan still has little to offer me, and I have oft complained that the cities in Italy empty in the evening leaving a weary visitor few places to enjoy, and the best places to eat are well outside the city. It was a great culinary festival known as Milan Fashion Week, Internationale versus Chelsea and the apartments next door were rumoured to be full of models. This offered a distant glimmer of fun. In a word: No. The trip only got better when the French air traffic controllers’ strike delayed my flight back and I spent a couple of hours on the tarmac at Malpensa, and what’s in a name?

Anyway, back to the burden of celebrity, I imagine that means “well known”. Well let me explain you’re not, and you know who you are. No I’m not being a bully, and talented means “offering a skill of some value”. Let me explain Panto doesn’t count, and in your case your best is definitely behind you, you know, behind you. Sometimes it just passes over their head.

Since it’s the first thing that most people discuss with me, and it is an English obsession: the weather. Yes, it has been cold, and no I can’t do anything about it. Of course I’d rather be on the beach in Ibiza, but the weather is no better there. If I was there I would have my friend Neil (The Tattooist), and his problems with his sciatica, for company. No, I’m not being selfish. I remember what I was like with my gout but I just wouldn’t want to sit around like a grumpy old gits discussing our health.

STOP PRESS: What did I say, poor little David now needs an operation and looks like he’ll miss the World Cup, but it does mean that now there’ll be no way of getting away from Victoria….

Whether the Weather:

1: As I said, I can’t do anything about it, and no, I’m not going to do that stupid dance, just in case. We have the Morris Dancers for that.

2: The first day of spring is March 21^st, we’re not there yet….

3: British Airways are going on strike, so the chances of getting away now rely upon collective Willie waving.

4: The clouds on the horizon really are clouds, not some metaphor for the economic climate, which appears overcast and foggy, and the long term forecast has been dropped.

5: Don’t just look at holiday brochures: book something. You know a holiday at home isn’t going to be good enough and it won’t be any cheaper. You tried it last year and all you did was moan about the cost of things.

6: Look, I had a part time job at Butlin’s, trust me I know….

7: No, Pontins, Warners or Centre Parcs aren’t going to be any better. Get some vitamin D, rickets is thing of the past.

8: Sorry I just had to stop for a moment and warm my hands over the candle. Well you wouldn’t be able to read my scratchy handwriting.

9: And the first day of summer is June 21^st, so try and hold back on the shorts and the Birkenstocks please, even though the sun might make an appearance today.

10: After all that lovely cold weather put paid to all those horrible germs that you carry around.

11: Boys and girls, spring also heralds the beginning of “Duran Watch”. You know you’ve been waiting for it, and those of you who know Duran, will be watching…

12: Soon it’ be time for those intimate waxings, named after faraway places, Hollywood, Brazil, Las Vegas and Land’s End.

13: Unless you really want to attract my friend Hogan, who is very hirsute in his pursuit

14: JLS will release a cover of Seasons in the Sun, and for Jake’s benefit we will be buying him a box set of Cafe Del Mar, he loves it so much…..