Today is a very special day.

Today I’d like to toast three decades worth of repressed homosexuality and wish my beloved brother Miguel the happiest of happy birthdays! He has filled my life with physical pain, but on a day like today and with an AK pressed to my temple I’ll happily admit all this is water under the bridge. Apparently blood runs thicker.

He’s the Clark Kent wannabe on the right.

How to best describe him. 

Unpredictable? Violent? Offkey?

He is none of those things when he’s getting lucky. But somewhere down the line shit went a little snafu in my brother’s lovelife. Truth be told.. Ladies no longer react. These days even his Don Juan banjo routine doesn’t batt an eyelid.

But are the girls really to blame when he rocks this kinda shit?

It’s not like the rest of his garms pass the acid test.

My mother has recently started alluding to her granny credentials. But manz can’t bring theyselves to tell her the closest Miguel is getting to having a kid at the moment..

is perving the hell out of them buttnaked in public parks.

We’ve all had our dry-runs admittedly, but as he prepares for yet another month of drudgery wandering the planes of the Gobi desert, it strikes me that even Prince of Dryness Westwood would be lost for words.

J U S T  K I D D I N  B W U O

 Cunning linguist prop-forward manna lettaz strong like bear living legend.

Let’s all raise mad beers to broheim

and wish him a poppin night and an even more poppin year

 (if you’re a broad and you see him about tonight please do us all a favour and lunge him)