Esquire’s tit competition is making me feel so very tired

Esquire magazine may like to package themselves up in a big sparkly ‘loafers and pulled pork’ wrapper, but inside it is the same wilted and out of date condom that covers all of the rest of the lads mags. Thanks to Twitter (and 30 minutes of slack jawed clicking through a steaming pile of ‘articles’) I stumbled across an article with the title 22 Reasons Helen Flanagan Might Be Wrong. Yes, I thought! They’ve realised the Helen Flanagan has been walking around all this time with a few Sea Monkeys splashing around where her brain should be! They’re going to call her out for posing with a gun in her mouth after a mass shooting, and for treating I’m A Celeb like some vacuous soft-core porno!

Helen Flanagan PETA PhotocallBut of course they weren’t. Because for Esquire, personality- voice of any kind- is superfluous. She might be a cretin, but she always talks about her boob job, so who cares. Obviously Flanagan wasn’t getting enough Instagram likes to satiate her needs, because she decided to announce that ‘I have the best boobs I’ve ever seen on anyone in the world. Ever. They’re amazing. I’m really proud of my boobs, and I’m grateful that I’ve got a voluptuous chest. It has a lot of power.”. Does it Helen? Does having saline behind your nipples make you a humanitarian, or a CEO, or a doctor? But that’s besides the point; my vitriol isn’t really aimed at her. She’s a young girl and she gives the magazines what they want.

Esquire decided to run with this, and made a photo gallery of celebrity women with lovely boobs, thus showing that some of them might prove Flanagan wrong. Some of them were swimwear models, so I can see their twisted logic that the general public are allowed to judge every single little bump and blotch. But a couple were actresses, like Game of Throne’s Emilia Clarke. Pretty sure she didn’t get into the acting biz just so the flash car loving/Blurred Lines listening/trust fund tosspots at Esquire could have a mental wank over her at their desks. She should get her dragons to burn their hair plugs off.

penis light

I kind of wanted to do a retaliatory list with big colour mega pixel photos of the best nobs just to show how weird it would seem if the tables were turned, but I guess that would make me no better than them. I could really do with a naked Polaroid of every features writer on the staff there and then ask people to vote. Not that I don’t have a mental top 3 list: 1. McGregor taking the condom off in Trainspotting 2. Fassbender in Shame 3. Dappy (only joking. Sort of).

The whole boob adoration thing has made me almost forget what mine are for. I think if a baby came towards them, I’d be slapping their head out the way going ‘NO! THESE ARE FOR YOUR DAD YOU SICK, SICK BASTARD!’. If it wasn’t for the fact that mine are basically cancer hammocks I’d probably forget they were related to anything other than sex. When I get them done (scooped out that is, so I don’t die) I’m definitely going bigger. I mean, while you’re down there, you might as well eh? And maybe, when they’re done, and a bit shit and scarred, I’ll send a picture in to Esquire. Maybe I’ll send some of other women, who have breastfed, or whose boobs are small and humble, so you don’t confuse them with mountains etc. (cheers Shakira). And I’ll say hey, guess what: ‘these are keeping me healthy! Those made that creepy baby all fat! These ones will NEVER SAG! How’d you like your top 22 now bitches?’ and Esquire can take their list, and shove it up their arse.

 

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