Moustaches. And porn.

holmesPieter, Barry’s brother, shouldered me as he strode past to open the champagne. We’d never got on. Ever since I took the piss out of his moustache.

He’d never forgiven me. Even though it was a shit moustache and should have been left where it belonged – in the seventies. As worn by the pornstars of the era. John Holmes sprang to mind.

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