Vole-faced gays

I met up with an old shag for drinks the other night, and discovered to my horror that he'd aged badly. Most of my shags are still delightfully attractive, but this one had gone Vole-Faced.

Vole Face? Remember dissapointing token gay in Sex and the City?

It was terrible. When we last saw each other, I had Hoxton hair, and he was a dashingly athletic Dane with curly locks and a sneer. Now the sneer's the same, but surrounded by shaven hair and glasses bigger than his head.

The worst thing about Vole-Faced gays is that they're so fussy. About where they sit, what brand of vodka they drink, and even the tonic that it sits in.

"So," said Vole-Face, "Now I'm no longer married, I'm taking you home."

Hmmn, I thought. We're having this conversation three years too late.