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Yes, yes

I know, describing them specifically as prole wedding pages does make me an awful human being, but honestly, if wishing to exhibit oneself to the magazine hungry baying hordes isn't declasse then what is? This applies to ALL PEOPLE. Not just civilians (to borrow La Hurley's telling nomenclature). Ergo, Kate Middleton, whitebread, Princess Caroline of Monaco, doleite scum, anyone who's ever let us nto their lovely home, first up against the wall.

We buy one of these things at work, customers seem to like it for some reason, and I suspect that there's a wellspring of hate here for them that I have, as yet, only begun to tap. There was some berk in one of them who is apparently a polo player.

Who.

Gives.

A.

Fuck.

About.

Polo?

What kind of obsequious, fawning halfwit thinks that this odious fuck with his girlfriend half is age is anything other than a sink for precious resources? What kind of oleaginous goon actually wants to read this shit?

And this, my friends, is why I work in a kitchen, not on the floor.

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