G E Keezie



On tuesday it was a very special person's birthday. This particular birthday is not one i often forget, seeing as it comes a mere four days after my mother's. The reason being, as i sit there witnessing the onset of winter thinking pleasant thoughts about my mother, my mind inevitably strays to the beloved subject of my mates' mothers, and to a very special one in particular. What a maiden. While visions of this sultry red head play out gayfully in mind, another leap of imagination takes me to my first encounter with her, one cold moody night in Esher back in '98. The moment i knew my life would never be the same again. And asking myself which middle man could have engineered a meeting which to all intents and purposes seemed written in the stars, at last my thoughts turn to her son. My friend Gregory



And so i remember his birthday.








Blessed with a wisdom well beyond his years, who gives a shit.



More importantly, he possesses uncommonly elongated bones.









And that rare ability to slip seamlessly into any holiday snap.










Although his passport photo holds him up in Customs on the regular..









he remains the main ingredient in a coriander soup, emanating a rotter esque vibe wheresoe'er he treads.








Here he is tearing up his own wedding with his beloved wife Jamie.



If you look closely Greg clearly still has both feet on the floor.









Greg ruefully watched the Olympic competition unfold in the table tennis arena this summer, in the knowledge that in one sport at least, with his mercilessly dull defensive gameplan, he could've gone pro.



No word of a lie.








On those rare occasions when Greg's not rocking freshly pressed Ralph Lauren, the man can hold shit down in neon, and while his wife looks on approvingly shattering champagne flutes left right and centre with her high-pitched hollering, in the zone he has been known to decimate dancefloors and leave many a lady's tongue wagging.








None more so than the tongue of Pippa the butt Middleton, who recently described the villain of this piece as her ideal man. Evidently with her mind on something (or someone) else, this might solve the mystery of why her new book is so gash.








But back to my main man. With all his prevalent anger management issues and an aggressive homophobic streak, i find it strange that Greg still enjoys having his neck softly kissed by other men.










But this weirdness aside, nothing but praise goes out to the G E Keezie. Wise beyond his years, and endowed with a rare ability to palm off exaggeration and pretence and tell things exactly how they are, i don't think i've ever heard him lie. And with a quickness of wit to make you rue the day you ever got on the wrong side of his verbal Wu Tang sword styles, perhaps more importantly he can also get shit off ridiculously high shelves for you. Pippa Middleton wants him, guys want to be him, and i've just spent an entire afternoon thinking about him.









Yeah, you buddy.









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