Thursday, October 11, 2007

Look Me In The Eye And Say That

The notorious sex tourist Harry Hutton points me towards these horrific snaps from Christopher Hitchens' latest Vanity Fair assignment, in which he receives but a taste of the punishment he so richly deserves.

I'm disappointed to see that, rather than forcing him to lick jelly off his own balls for the entertainment of a gang of cackling CIA interrogators, Vanity Fair have merely given him a face pack and a back, crack and sack wax.

It's at moments like this that I recall why I have such great respect for Hitchens - even as a combined force of health specialists and photographers strive to strip him of his dignity, he still maintains an air of detached, fuck-you rebelliousness by puffing on a cigarette.

What a trooper - lesser men would've been left looking absolutely ridiculous.

Still, in all of this pornographic depravity, we must remember to commemorate the suffering of the real victims.

I ask you to pity the poor stylist who laboureth betwixt the bulbous cheeks of Hitchens, for truly she hath looked into the abyss, and it hath looked into her.

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