Rotten Peaches Geldof would go down on a snake if it was a guest editor at Vice Magazine or was the sometimes keytar player of a band who had a song on the Gummo soundtrack, so she usually has the worst taste in dudes. (Not like bitch is a prized kumquat herself.) But Peaches is finally rubbing her crotch marmalade on the right kind of beautiful dude who is obviously fluent in dressing like a Volvo-driving, Kenny G-humming, Celestial Seasonings-drinking suburban mother of the 1980s! I know you fell back in chair and shouted out, “MOM!!!????”
Peaches’ new piece is Thomas Cohen and he’s like a human version of one of the Erri Twins in the weekend wardrobe of a 1950s girl school head mistress. I bet he’s even wearing white cotton panties with no dick slot and baby blue roses on them. If I didn’t think his crotch was covered with a bacterial fungus from fucking on Rotten Peaches, I’d totally be in love!