Beauty Is Supposedly In The Eye Of The Beholder, But...

I'm just a leetle bit tired of having throbbing hordes of unwashed commoners falling in love with me all the time, and writing dribbling Odes to my Fair Beauty (or is that only in my imagination?)


But anyway, in the interests of my peace and quiet, here is an entirely accurate portrait of me as I try to chat up an older man at Wellington Airport.


He rejected my advances.


I just can't understand it.




You're not so keen to come canoodling with me now, huh?