I’m writing this blog in my attempts at being a soothsayer. I am saying sooth about the fate of the last of the Knights of Gillette. The order has 3 members, Sir Henry, Sir Woods and Sir Federer.
There was a time in the long forgotten past (October 2009) when all three of the Knights were unblemished specimens of grace, poise and chins that felt like brushed satin. But that night in the Stade de France rocked the nations faith in the honour of Gillette male grooming products. Sir Henry handled the ball and disgraced himself in the eyes of millions of people with not enough to be genuinely outraged about. Henry was forever tarnished by the cheating that got France to a World Cup they have no chance of winning. Sir Henry was shamed, forced to wear a dismembered hand around his neck till the end of days. But there was worse to come…
- The Albatross
No sooner had the gods atop Mount Gillette spat out of the blood from the first haymaker, they were pummelled once more in their freshly shaved, baby smooth, finely contoured faces. This blow was vastly more powerful than the first. Imbued with the soul of the raging demon that is a sex scandal.
Sir Woods had been unfaithful to Lady Woods. Many times in many places with many scrumpets of questionable virtue. Such was the brilliance of his plummet from glory that he revealed his saucy ways by driving into a tree. That’s how the the truly great people announce their scandals.
Once again the nosy and privileged went bat shit mental. The uneducated masses marched for Woods to be ripped to pieces by savage bearded hell dogs. Mount Gillette released a statement saying Sir Woods was “worse than Satan” and he should “fuck off back to Russia”. The highest courts in the highest lands met and Woods was finally made to kiss his mother on live television.
- The Ultimate Shame.
Two of the Knights have fallen. Hunched double in the local speak easy, smelling of expired shaving foam, recounting their fall from the 5 blades for extra comfort heavens. But one remains. The truly perfect man. Lord Federer.
The utter perfection of Lord Federer and the escalating juiciness of the ruination of his former brothers means his fall will be something to behold. Like a solar eclipse, a shooting star or a really good firework display, it will be remembered forever. The act of doing something stupid in public will be known across all times, universes and dimensions as “doing a Federer”.
We can only speculate for now though I have some suggestions as to what he might do
- Having won Wimbledon, he’ll call The Duke of Kent a c**t.
- FBI Agents will bust into his mansion to reveal billions in Nazi Gold.
- The Centre Court murder of Rafael Nadal.
Federer is doomed. It was written in the stars. He will fall and it will be like no one has ever ever ever fallen before. It will make Sir Woods look like a storm in a teacup, a hurricane in a soup bowl, a typhoon in the toilet.
It will happen. When I do not know. How I cannot say. Though know this traveller, it will be fucking spectacular and I will be there to say, “yeah, I wouldn’t have done that”.
