Le Crush #75: Mr Justin Davenport

aka the youngen Holiday Murray boy

Making this decision was as hard as D.Mule vs D.Cooltrain … Ellis or Justin? Ellis or Justin? ELLIS OR JUSTIN?????? FUCK!. fuck. Together you’re too pretty. That hard choice between the take-me-to-bed-eyes-beardy-manly-look or the thank-god-you’re-not-my-younger-brother-chiseled-cheekbone-look. Double-post reserved for The Apter Brothers. Gotta choose one. Fuck. Justin baby … you’re it. Ellis baby, maybe one time sometime. We’ll see.

Now, Justin … it’s easy enough to accidentally bump into you at/on bicycles gigs markets fields launches streets blah blah so I’ll refrain from mentioning all the detailed places we’ll inevitably share an eyecandy stare. Instead, through this post (whose aim is, undoubtedly, to worship the sweet air your delightful nostrils breathe out) I declare a challenge to Mr Luca Vincenzo. Luca baby, you know this Justin boy a little better than I (in fact it was you, dear child, who made the introduction, to which I am eternally grateful). In appreciation and as per your request, I will reveal myself to you at some point with a “who’s yo momma” in passing in return for:

- a romantic weekend away for myself and your dear friend Justin

- cederberg, west coast, east coast or extended winelands will do

- the Maldives is a close second

- fine champagne, twice a day (balls to sparkling wine)

- dinners must at some point include caviar / oysters / lobster / pesto and tapenade on bruschetta, at least one fat steak, and at least one spaghetti meatballs (for desired Lady & the Tramp effect)

- private Burt Bacharach performance

- transportation by hot air balloon

- an encounter with a whale shark

- absolute secrecy and privacy – paparazzi will be shot

- you organise and pay for everything

Everyone wins.

(Thanks Adriaan again for some of the pretty piekchures to play with)

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