When eying up these masculine lovelies I struggle not to think of Sue White, encased in mud, from the delirious Green Wing. But I can somehow force myself to get over it.
It's the sensuality, I think.
The fantasy of the feeling of wet, warm mud dripping onto my body and then being smeared to its contours...
...every crevice filled with the slippery gel...
...slowly drying and hardening in the baking sun.
There's something both primal and playful about wet, recreational mud.
And something even more primal about seeing it on these lovely boys.
Yes, that's enough of all that, I think.
...............
Oh, and by the way: apologies for failing to bring you, as promised, Benedict Cumberbatch as the twenty-first century Sherlock [Holmes]. I'm afraid my google powers have failed me and I've been unable to unearth even a single stash of decent images of Sherlock and his brilliant sidekick Dr Watson (very nicely played by Martin Freeman). But I'm going to keep looking. And in the meantime, can I recommend BBC iPlayer if you've missed them so far?
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