Comments on: Meet the Boy Saunders : A Pictorial Presentation http://theboysaunders.com/2006/07/meet-the-boy-saunders-a-pictorial-presentation/ You Little Punks Think You Own This Town... Mon, 21 May 2012 01:38:58 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.6.3 By: Simon http://theboysaunders.com/2006/07/meet-the-boy-saunders-a-pictorial-presentation/#comment-44 Simon Mon, 31 Jul 2006 23:21:31 +0000 http://theboysaunders.com/2006/07/meet-the-boy-saunders-a-pictorial-presentation/#comment-44 Firstly... You love that picture of you that was put in SX. Ellie is onto a losing streak there. It seems to make a mockery of your attempts to proclaim yourself not camp. Secondly... It was losing a stupid bet to me that resulted in that hair. So I love it too. I also love that Phil when drunk can always be relied upon to make stupid bets. Thirdly... Living as I now do in a Redneck wilderness I'd not actually heard any of James Blunt's music (although news of his existence had penetrated even this deeply into Mordor) until very recently when one of the scantily clad Italian Teenage Girls on my Summer Camp, wearing shorts smaller than my kitchen teatowel, approached me with her ipod and offered to let me listen to a song by the aforementioned Mr. Blunt. Whether or not it was the title, the song was most noticable for the singer squeaking the words "You're beautiful, you're beautiful...repeat a few times and add "it's true". I quite liked it and made sure I did my own squeaky impression whenever I felt the need to lighten the mood at the camp. Bravo James, bravo. Firstly… You love that picture of you that was put in SX. Ellie is onto a losing streak there. It seems to make a mockery of your attempts to proclaim yourself not camp.

Secondly… It was losing a stupid bet to me that resulted in that hair. So I love it too. I also love that Phil when drunk can always be relied upon to make stupid bets.

Thirdly… Living as I now do in a Redneck wilderness I’d not actually heard any of James Blunt’s music (although news of his existence had penetrated even this deeply into Mordor) until very recently when one of the scantily clad Italian Teenage Girls on my Summer Camp, wearing shorts smaller than my kitchen teatowel, approached me with her ipod and offered to let me listen to a song by the aforementioned Mr. Blunt. Whether or not it was the title, the song was most noticable for the singer squeaking the words “You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful…repeat a few times and add “it’s true”.

I quite liked it and made sure I did my own squeaky impression whenever I felt the need to lighten the mood at the camp. Bravo James, bravo.

]]>