‘Cause nothing says “Misfit” more than a Year Book Photo.
One of the above isn’t like the others…
Oh yeth. British PeeEm David Cameron gathered the Top 8 for some photo ops at the Ministry of Tragic. Evidently, the ATP’s idea of “tournament promotion” is to dress the world’s best players up like a bunch of balding investment bankers and congregate them at a place not accessible to fans.
What could possibly make them look more like a bunch of privileged, private-schooled, well-moneyed, jet-setting douchebags removed from the grassroots of tennis?
GET THEM TO SUCK UP TO AUTHORITY OF COURSE.
If you’re going to be a snoot, at least be in on your own joke.
Now that I’ve gotten the snark out of my system … you know those models that press themselves against hot cars?
In the unlikely event I suddenly grow a few meters in height and become one of those supermodels specializing in being the token Asian in photoshoots, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO PRESS ME AGAINST THIS CAR. In fact, don’t bother having car windows.
Hey this photo is actually less injurious on the eyes! What am I missing …
No, Big Berd. Roger doesn’t actually want to socialise with you.
I have nothing snarky to say on this photo. I just like my men tanned. That’s all.
Personally wouldn’t mind a crooked smile either. But Rafa dear, when Fernando Verdasco asks if you want his left-over bottle of hair gel, JUST SAY NO.
Andy Toothface was eager to point out that, like Federer’s Wintour and Rafa’s Gypsy, he too has friends in high places. Friends he can matchy-matchy his tie with, and chat at length about things like haggis and deep fried arteries …
“It’s the second time I’ve been here. It was nice. He [David Cameron] likes tennis, which we knew beforehand. We spoke about tennis and some of the past players. It was good fun, I really enjoyed it.”
I iz disappoint.