Observe Chumlies, a retro-ginger, but one so fearsome and so ironcladedly frightening that even the gods dare not speak his name. But I shall endeavor to bring forth, the power, that is, the Hucknall for your gingerday pleasures. Well mostly 'cause Andraste reminded me.
Old Mick here was/is a crooner with Simply Red (was there ever a more apt and godlike name?)
He was born down on Capitol Hill, wearing a cap and fully upright, sometime in the early eighties and sprouted ringlet after ringlet of ginger and yet still became a much loved and horny-toed pop super star!
Do you see chumlies? Do you see?
Such was his awesome magical power, that despite being begingered and befreckled, and on occasion adding to his hawtness by garnishing some of his teeth with jewels, Old Micky still managed to dance the dance of the belly fart with all manner of lovely ladies while convincing the world at large that he was a terrific singer and rather hot stuff indeed.
Is that not a sign? Do you see? Do you see?
Initially Mick thought money was too tight to mention, then he held back the years through the sheer force of his gingerosity- no mean feat I think we can agree. I got a bit scared when he sang that he loved the thought of coming home to me, even though he knew we wouldn't make it, which frankly sounds like a bit of threat to any sane person, but then I figured I'd moved house so often he'd never find me and if he wanted to kill my old flatmate he was welcome to her.
After dancing dreadlocked and Joseph and the technicoloured raincoat like around the fairground, ruby toothed and gleaming, it soon became apparent that this little hobgoblin of funkified Ginger was in fact some kind of sex crazed troll, and I for one started to wear an amulet to ward off late night attacks of finger clicking. Fortunately I got into E and by the time I realised 'If you don't know me by know' was also something of a threat, I had weaned myself off his ginger finger licking style of worship and had taken to making box shapes with my hands in nightclubs all over the city.
Phew, saved and what a close shave that was.
So in honour of escaping the cult of this finger clicking red setter, I give you....well I give you Mick Hucknall actually, Retro Ginger extra cherry on top. Yeah, you're moist, don't even bother lying. But you don't know why.
Do you see? Do you see?