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Colin was still a little bit drunk when he woke up that morning– or should he say afternoon. After winning 2nd place in the fucking Premier League , the boys had stayed out until the early morning. Their only obligation was a debrief at the club later on the day.
He’d left his phone in his locker the previous night, but wasn’t feeling particularly antsy to get it back. In fact, he’d halfway forgotten that he’d gotten to kiss his fella the previous night.
Hardly anything felt like it had changed, except for the fact that Colin had his Uber driver actually recognise him as a footballer when he drove him to Richmond.
“I don’t feel like we nearly won the fucking thing last night,” Colin said to nobody in particular.
“I certainly did,” Dani said, two hickeys on either side of his neck. “Yanna and Tiana.” He pointed to each of the marks.
Jamie looked like he was about to half crawl into the locker room. “I’m fucked, lads.”
As he stretched out to open his locker full of various Lynx bottles, his back cracked audibly.
Zorreaux groaned. "Dude did that sound come out of you?”
An almost inhuman sound escaped Jamie’s mouth as he whiningly sat down with his bottle of deodorant. “I slept in a tub.”
“You don’t have a tub,” Colin said. It was one of the main things Jamie complained about, that he had to take his ice baths in the garden like some loser. “Did you get lucky?”
“Between 6 AM this morning and now?” Jamie looked at the watch on his wrist, a shiny silver thing that probably cost as much as a car. “Can anybody tell me what time it is, the pointy things won’t stop moving.”
“That’s typically what a watch does.” Jan Maas’ voice came from the doorway. There was a purpling bruise around his eye.
“Woah.” The scattered few players in the locker room chorussed.
“Did someone finally punch you out?” Jamie asked.
“Yes,” Jan said. “You were there.”
Jamie frowned. “Huh? Are you hallucinating, mate? I don’t remember that.”
“In the club in Chelsea?”
“We didn’t go to Chelsea, did we?” Jamie looked around him. He threw his head back, accidentally slamming it into the wood panel in his cubby. “Fuck. Ow.”
“It sounds like you blacked out, amigo.”
Jamie scoffed. “I don’t black out.”
“Then how come you don’t remember Chelsea?” Colin asked.
This time a little louder, Jamie repeated “I don’t black out!”
A dull bang came from the coaches office. Isaac’s face and bare chest appeared from behind the windows. “What are you all yelling about?”
He opened the door, still wearing the shorts that were apart of his kit.
“Did you sleep here last night, bruv?” Colin asked, slightly concerned, he was pretty sure that Isaac and him had even shared the Uber home.
“Yes,” Isaac said. “I wanted to make sure I would be on time.”
“Jamie doesn’t believe he blacked out,” Jan said, replying to Isaac’s earlier question. “Even though he was there when that guy with the weird penis punched me.”
“How do you know what his penis looks like?” Zorreaux wondered.
Like it was obvious, Jan said “We were in the bathroom.”
“Did you guys actually look at men’s penises in the bathroom?” Colin wondered.
“It was a really weird penis.” Jan defended himself.
Isaac put his hands together, thinking. “Define weird.”
Jan put his hands together in an ‘S’ like shape.
Isaac hummed. “Start from the beginning.”
…
Jan Maas liked to go out. He liked large festivals in the open air, sweat mixed with the smell of beer and grass and fireworks. He liked small and exclusive parties on boats. He liked high end clubs filled with models and actresses and rich people that bought bottles of champagne for the price, rather than the taste, and left it half full in the VIP lounge.
He liked the club that the lads had chosen, it was on the smaller side, but it had excellent drinks and a good music selection. In addition to that, the bathrooms were still more clean than not and didn’t smell like piss or shit.
As they stood in the line for the bathroom, sharing a bottle of vanilla vodka between them, Jan pointed out a man to Jamie. He was looking around suspiciously and then shamelessly shoving his hand in his pants to scratch his parts.
"That isn't very sanitary, is it?" Jan wondered.
"Look at him, he's itching like crazy, he's gotta have, like, warts on his parts or some shit." Jamie slurred.
Jan snorted. "Warts on his parts."
Jamie winced. "We can't make fun of him, that shit is fucking scary."
"You ever had warts, Tartt? Warts on your Tartt parts?"
"Quit it, Dr. Seuss," Jamie said. "Only twice."
"Twice?" Jan exclaimed. "Do they not teach you about condoms in England?"
"I was 17, shut up, I bet you weren't even getting any when you were 17."
"I was having all sorts of protected sex when I was 17."
"I wasn't," a guy behind them said. "Haven't even lost my virginity yet."
"That's alright mate, take your time." Jamie told him, as Jan squinted at the guy, probably trying to guess his age and whether to find it pathetic or not.
The door to the bathroom opened and a couple of guys filed out, drinks in hand.
It was really not Jan's fault that the partition walls were so low and he was so tall.
He looked to his left, because he thought that was where Jamie was, but instead there was some kind of Guiness World Record Winner for weirdest penis in the stall next to him.
"Wow," he said, making the guy look up around him. "My friend and I thought you had warts but this is much worse."
"The fuck did you say?"
"You should really get that checked out."
Suffice to say, the man was charging for him before Jan could even zip up his jeans.
Jamie managed to get the weird penis guy off of him with the help of the virgin from in line, but not before throwing a few good punches.
"Did you see the penis though?" Jan asked when they were back in the VIP lounge, holding a chilled mini bottle of champagne to his eye. "I should have taken a picture."
…
Jamie crossed his arms. "I don't remember any of that."
"Well, what do you remember, amigo?" Dani asked.
"I mean…" He looked around the locker room. "It's all pretty clear up until that club with the jello shots."
…
Colin could still feel the texture of the jello shots in his mouth, he'd coughed out one of the shots and sent it flying across the floor of the club, where he watched three girls in heels slide over the jello in quick succession, all falling into the bar.
He'd wanted to make his way over to them to apologise but was stopped by a gaggle of Richmond fans all wanting to proclaim their love for him because of his assist in the game that day.
"I'm having a baby due next week, and I'm gonna name him after you." One fan said, to which another said "Shouldn't you be home with your wife then?"
"She's a Man City fan, I can't look at her right now."
Isaac came over and squinted at the fans. "These lads bothering you, bruv?"
"No, not at all-"
One of the fans, the upcoming father, nearly bowed in front of Isaac, as if he was royalty. "We were just telling Hughes here how much we love him– My ma's from Wales, she wants to knit you a sweater."
" Woo hee that freekick, captain, I'm a little in love with you for that one." Another fan said.
"Just absolutely love you."
"I love you lads so much."
"Hey," Colin said. "I love you guys right back, we couldn't have gotten this far without your support."
A wave of some unreadable emotion came over Isaac and twisted his face into a frown.
Isaac pulled Colin back to their part of the club by his elbow. "What's all this about?"
"You know I–" Isaac's voice cracked. "I love you more than all of those idiots."
Colin smiled, tears welling up in his eyes. "I love you too, boyo."
"I love all of you," Dani interjected, wrapping his arms around both of them.
Sam gave a heart melting smile. "Aww. I love you too!"
"I don't love any of you," Jan Maas said from his place on the couch.
"Shut the fuck up, Jan Maas, you love us." Bumbercatch shoved him.
"Yeah, and I love you, Jan Maas," Jamie said dreamily from where he was lying on the leather couch, his head bent uncomfortably to look at the rest of the team.
"Well it is just logic is it not?" Jan Maas asked. "You all are my best friends but I do not love you."
Colin didn't know whether he had to sneeze or cry. In a weirdly high pitched voice he asked "We're your best friends?"
"Yes. That's what I said– Apart from my cousin Martin Garrix."
Even Isaac, who had the stoicism down, looked like he had a hard time keeping all of his emotions inside. Colin squeezed his shoulder. "Love you," he said.
That was all before they heard Richard screaming, being thrown out of the club for picking a fight with a bartender about the wine menu.
They went to Chelsea afterwards, begging Kenneth to drive them to one last club. Where they wisely chose to hide the wine menu from Richard.
…
"Am I late? I'm sorry if I'm late guys!" Sam rushed into the locker room. He was wearing his pyjama shorts and a very nice T-shirt from that French brand Colin kept seeing everywhere.
"Calm down, amigo, the coaches aren't even here yet." Dani smiled at him.
Sam sank into the bench. "I had a terrible nightmare about something Coach Beard said to me."
"What about?”
“His girlfriend was there and she wanted to–”
“Oh!” Zoreaux said, a look of recognition dawning on his face. “You had the pegging nightmare.”
“More like the pegging dream ,” Dani said.
“There is nothing dreamy about that woman–” Sam shivered. “She came after me with all sorts of nicknacks.”
“It’s practically a rite of passage, mate.” Colin slapped his shoulder. “It’s been my recurring nightmare ever since I saw the magazines in the coaching office.”
“You could’ve warned me!”
“And told you what? At one point Coach Beard will have a beer too many and talk about the strap on his girlfriend uses?” Zoreaux didn’t seem to feel very sorry for him.
“Yes! I would’ve extracted myself from that conversation.”
Jamie scoffed. “I bet it wasn’t even that bad. Beard’s girlfriend once cornered me with an axe to ask me about my sexual history with older men.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“Hey, I don’t concern myself with the past– I’ve got my eyes on the future.” Jamie eyed Roy’s office.
Sam winced. “This was worse… much worse.”
…
Sam was honoured to share the table with the coaches when they went out for the first celebratory drinks at the Crown and Anchor. He sat, squashed into a booth next to Beard and Roy, opposite Rebecca (and Ted and Keeley and Jamie) but it wasn’t at all awkward, in fact, it was kind of nice to be able to talk to her again, nothing weighing them down.
There was a plastic glass of champagne in front of him, Mae had told them that she wouldn’t bring out the fine crystal until they actually won the premier league.
He recognised some of the fans around them, and a Westham fan who had surprisingly not been smashed to bits, probably thanks to the scarf wrapped around him and the mousy looking Richmond fan that came to all their practices.
They were an odd looking couple, but then again, most of the people in this pub were odd looking.
It was after the third glass of champagne, during the first round of pink drinks Keeley insisted they try out. Beard was taking alternating sips of his beer and pink drink, Roy had already shoved the sugary drink in Jamie’s direction, because he claimed the additional sugar would give him the shits. (His words, not Sam’s)
Ted was engrossed in a conversation with Keeley and Rebecca about some up and coming fashion designer Keeley’s firm was representing, while Jamie sat turned around in the booth, talking to Richard and O’Brien.
It was when Roy left the booth to go to the bathroom that it all went to shit, but not Roy’s shit, because he was closely minding his sugar intake.
Jane was Beard’s crazy girlfriend. She reminded Sam a little bit of Richard’s stalker fan, who would sleep outside their hotel and wear masks made out of paper cutouts of Richard’s face and kept threatening his flings on Instagram. That all quit when Richard actually spoke to her for longer than 10 seconds, and she finally figured out that underneath all of that beauty, he was kind of an arse.
She (Jane, not the crazy stalker fan) spammed Beard’s phone full of texts, making the phone nearly buzz off the table. Beard grinned and looked at his messages. “Jane’s saying that when I get home tonight– we’re gonna, well you know.”
If Beard had decided to leave it at that, Sam would’ve already been traumatised. Instead, the alcohol must’ve buzzed around in Beard’s head, just as it did in Sam’s, and Beard chose to say something that would land Sam in Dr Sharon’s office for the rest of his life. “Well I don’t know if you know– have you ever been pegged by a lady, Sam?”
…
“Well, have you?” Dani asked.
Sam sputtered. “I– No.” He put his head in his hands. “He just kept telling me all of these details, I got away as soon as Roy came back. I don’t think I’m going to be able to look at him ever again.”
“Look at who ever again?” Coach Ted Lasso looked like he’d never seen a second of celebration and spent the night in a luxury spa, despite the fact that Sam had seen him come along until they left for the club with the Jello shots.
“Beard.” Some of the lads chorused.
“The pegging thing again?” Ted whistled when he saw the nods of agreement. “Whoowee, that man is not seeing another Dirty Shirley if I have anything to do about it.”
He took in the room and the not-so fresh faces already in it. “You boys sleep alright?”
All that Jamie could make out was a groan.
“Like shit, coach,” Sam cursed. “On account of the nightmare about coach Beard.”
Dani stretched his arms out. “I slept like heaven.” He could brag like the best of them when he wanted to.
“I have to get a new mattress– it’s like a crater has formed in the shape of my ass,” Zoreaux complained.
“I’m going to miss the heck outta this banter,” Ted said and then disappeared into the office, either to pack up his things or to cry.
The rest of the lads filed in slowly after that. Richard had a hickey so large it looked like he’d been attacked by the back end of a blowdryer, it reached down to his chest, which was probably why he showed it off with one of the deepest V-necks the world had ever seen. Bumbercatch was wearing two different shoes. O’Brien’s butt had sustained another major injury when he tried to climb into his Uber through the window, which is why he was limping once again.
As Jamie bent down to do up his laces, his back audibly cracked once again, almost seeming to echo through the locker room. All heads turned towards him. “What? I slept in a tub.”
“Whose tub?” Colin demanded. “You don’t have a tub.” He repeated.
“Roy’s sister’s.”
A chorus of ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s came from the rest of the players.
“Get your heads out of the gutter, dickheads.”
Isaac flicked Jamie’s shoulder. “How’d you end up there then?”
…
He was really proper fucked.
Really, beyond fucked. Beyond the way he used to be when he was on the under 18 squad and one of the lads managed to sneak a few bottles into the hotel. He’d never lost a part of the night– never blacked out, or well, not that he could remember.
There’s this thing he used to do when he was on his way from smashed to fucked– he’d sit in the bathroom with a beer glass he’d chugged on the way to the bathroom, and drink water, because he’d been told it was good for him to drink more water.
He’d talk to every smashed guy who’d come in– followed a few of them onto the dance floor too, beer glass full of water in his hand– followed a few guys home too, but he left the glass on the bar in that case.
Never forgot a thing, though.
Maybe it was the jello shots in the third club they went to, or the second Dirty Shirley Temple all the way back in Mae’s little pub. Maybe he just didn’t want to remember the way Keeley was dancing all sweet in the middle of the dance floor in her fluffy pink coat that made her look a bit like a flamingo and Roy’s love struck look, staring at her with some obnoxious IPA in his hand.
Maybe he’d wished to forget that part and his brain had gotten the wrong idea.
He knew he was fucked though, when, at the very last club, some place back in Richmond, Jamie stood outside with Roy, waiting for their respective Ubers, because Roy was all the way on the other side and Jamie had come up with all these excuses not to join Roy’s Uber, but order his very own one.
He had his cocktail glass full of water– and an extra bottle of water, courtesy of the bartender who had thrown the team out.
“You remind me a bit of a guy I used to know.” Jamie had said, probably slurring his words like he’d done since the second glass of champagne. “Just so you know.”
“Hmm?” Roy grunted.
Jamie waved his hand around. “My friend Davy’s brother– fucking grump that he was. But he was kind of sweet, once you got to know him.”
“Are you saying I’m sweet?”
“I used to go out dancing with them, but me and him we’d end up necking in the bathroom while Davy was flirting with some girls.”
Roy checked his phone, anything not to look at Jamie, probably.
“You remind me of him sometimes– you’re hairier though.”
“I didn’t know you…” Roy couldn’t find his words.
Jamie shrugged. “Did you ever…?” He hinted, because saying it would just be too obvious, and too loaded for 5 in the morning, as the sun was trying to recolour the sky a brilliant blue, but the orange street lights resisted.
“Yeah.” Roy’s voice was soft. “I did.”
He couldn’t quite name the feelings that gripped his insides. He was drunk, and tired. He couldn’t name them, but he knew them so very well. Had known them ever since he put up that poster of Roy, and let them eb and flow through the years.
“Thanks for…” Jamie started and waved around in Roy’s direction. “You know, telling me.”
“You too.” Roy grunted.
Jamie’s Uber came earlier than Roy’s did, even though he’d ordered it later. Some sort of beautiful gift from the universe to get Jamie out of the situation that he’d fucked up so thoroughly by making it awkward.
He climbed in the back of the car and nodded as the driver repeated an address to him that wasn’t his. It was the most recent address in his Uber app– which he’d last used during the international break.
Sarah O’Sullivan’s (née Kent) house was nice, but the universe decidedly wasn’t, for leaving him in front of it.
“You can either keep staring at my windows like a creep…” Sarah started, standing in the doorframe to her house. “Or I’ll make you a cup of tea and let you explain what the fuck you’re doing here.”
“Did I wake you?” Jamie asked. “Fuck I’m so sorry.”
“Just got off a night shift–” She plucked at her navy blue scrubs. “Won’t you come in, Tartt? Won’t do my brother any good to hear I let you freeze out here.”
“It’s not that cold.”
“You had a nice night then?”
Jamie entered Sarah’s hallway. “Well I’ve fucked it all up, innit?”
“Had a bit much to drink then?”
“Of course.” Jamie was pointed to the couch. “Would have let it all just sit right here if I hadn’t drank anything.” And he pointed in the general area of his chest, because that was where it all sat, everything he felt for Roy.
“Did you get it off your chest at least?”
Sarah placed two mugs of something on the table, it smelled all herbal like the stuff his mummy would give him before he went to bed, because it would calm him down.
“Not at all.” Jamie threw his head back. “How was your work and everything?”
“Shit,” she said. “Lots of drunk idiots, lots of Jamie Tartt fans.”
Jamie laughed. “That’s just the same thing, innit.”
“Ah well, didn’t want to be mean to the crazy man who showed up at my doorstep at 6 in the morning.”
Jamie took the still steaming mug into his hands carefully. “Uber driver dropped me off at the wrong address.”
“Lovely.”
“I’m really sorry–”
“Ah nonsense– you’re Roy’s best friend, that basically makes you my best friend.”
At the mention of Roy, Jamie’s heart twisted in some weird sort of shape. “I really did fuck it up,” he said.
“Well, what did you do?”
“I got all these feelings right here.” Jamie clutched the fabric of his T-shirt, because that was where the feelings sat, pooling and twisting. “I’m jealous all the time– of fucking everybody and everything, and I’m angry and I’m fucking hopelessly in love.”
“And did you tell him?”
“I just– No– but also I did, maybe.” Jamie stammered.
“If you told him,” Sarah said slowly. “He’d say it back.”
A feeling that was not relief, not happiness, not love, washed over him and he made his way to where he faintly remembered the bathroom was. He heaved over the toilet bowl and tripped into the bathtub and Sarah brought his tea there and spoke softly in hushed tones about the boy Roy used to be back when he was little and he’d come back from the academy on weekends.
She laid Phoebe’s unicorn blanket over him when he’d decided he didn’t want to exchange the tub for the couch, because “I have a sofa at home, but I don’t got a tub, do I?”
…
“Did any of you lads check the news?” Colin asked, now that everybody was sitting, or lying, in the locker room. He faintly remembered being woken up by Michael sliding out of bed to go to his cushy job at 8 in the morning, and getting tucked back in after being forced to down a bottle of water and some ibuprofen.
“I tried.” O’Brien said. “But I can’t stand seeing Man City fans happy.”
A murmur of agreement rippled across the room.
Colin tapped the screen of his phone, which was charing excruciatingly slow in his cubby. He really needed to buy a better charger for when he was at Richmond, which was a problem for next season, he realised.
Ted clapped his hands from the doorway to his office. “Everybody get their party butts in the press room!” His perky voice did not go over well with the hungover crowd. “Woops, sorry y’all, sensitive ears, I know.” He whispered-shouted.
…
“Oh– what’s this… Hughes has just grabbed a fan off the field and given him a passionate smooch in celebration. Thierry, have you ever kissed a fan?”
“Many, Arlo. Women, babies, bald men, you name it. Once, I even kissed a turtle.”
“Not a snapping turtle, I hope–”
Colin slumped in his seat as the rest of the lads cheered.
“... and he’s going for tongue! Absolute madman ,” Bumbercatch slapped him on the back.
“Can we go back a bit, coach? I didn’t quite see it–” Zorreaux questioned.
Happily obliging, Roy rewound the footage, giving everybody another look at the few seconds of footage showing Colin necking his boyfriend on the field.
“I especially like how the cameraman zoomed in at that exact time, excellent camerawork.” Sam complimented.
“If you and Michael ever break up I need you to show me that technique,” Jamie said in a half joking tone that was a little too serious for Colin’s taste. The rest of the team fell silent.
Isaac leaned forward. “That’s kind of gay, bruv.” He looked to Colin for approval. “Right?”
“A bit.”
“Col says you’re gay.”
Jamie shrugged. “For this gorgeous lad? I am gayer than Paul McCartney–”
“Paul McCartney’s not gay.” Nate pointed out.
“I know.” Jamie scoffed. “That’s why I said I was gayer than him, innit?”
Colin shoved him. “You’re not my type.”
“Of course I am.” Jamie fluttered his eyelashes. “I’m everybody’s type.”
Jan Maas spoke up, pointing at the looped footage on the screen. “That is a little too much teeth, is it not?”
Roy grunted. “It’s subjective, Jan Maas.”
“Alright.” Ted clapped his hands. “That concludes our season wrap up– with a little bow on top. I want to reiterate Will’s wishes to take all the food from your locker before you leave for Sam’s restaurant. We don’t want a repeat of last year’s mouse fiasco.”
A murmur of agreement went across the team.
“As for Colin,” Ted said, addressing Colin. “Attaboy.”
…
“The reviews are in then?” Colin asked nervously, trying to look over Isaac’s shoulder at the Twitter trending tab, where he’d seen his name in bold black letters on the homepage.
Isaac laughed, a deep belly laugh. “These are absolute gold,” he said, handing over the phone to Colin.
jeremy fine @jeremyisfine
embarassing of people to regard any physical affection between men as homosexual. colin hughes isn’t gay, you guys are just close minded
SHAWTY @richmond4lyfe
its literally not gay to kiss a guy, that’s fucking racist to italian ppl
|
jamie tartt doodoo @jamieslartt
colin hughes isn’t italian tho
|
SHAWTY @richmond4lyfe
so what? you don’t know welsh culture
Arnold N.A Lowes @RealANAL
I would NEVER kiss a man. Let alone in public. There could be children watching that. Shame on you Colin Hughes
Bruv @bruvluv
if colin hughes were gay, wouldnt he give off a gay vibe?? i asked my cousin (gay) and he says that hughes has like NO homosexual energy
BBC SPORTS @BBCSports
Colin Hughes of Richmond United confuses the public with a sensual– or is it a friendly? celebratory kiss. Guests discuss physical affection on the field and Richmond’s excellent season tonight! bit.ly/hdfoushdfoh
“Well, they’re right,” Jamie argued, to a stone faced Roy. “It’s only gay if you do it with gay intentions.”
“Colin did it in a gay way, though.” Richard noted. “Right, Colin?”
Colin blinked. “As far as I’m aware.”
Jamie was still making up an argument to Roy. “Like if I were to make out with you right now, from a bro perspective, that would be straight– Not that I would make out with you in a straight way– or in any way for that matter–”
“Great talk, Jamie, glad to have your perspective on that.”
“Really?”
“No, you fuckwit. Just for that I’m gonna keep you in training over the summer.”
If Jamie seemed to light up at the prospect of more 4am’s with Roy, well then that was nobody’s business.
“Why aren’t I being cancelled? I’m supposed to be cancelled right?” Colin questioned, voice fast paced.
“I bet somewhere out there they’re cancelling you,” Jan Maas said in a bad attempt to console.
Ted peeked his head through the door. “If it bothers you that much, Colin, I can set you up with a journalist, let ‘em write up a nice article for ya?”
Bumbercatch nearly blew a fuse on the other side of the room. “No, mate, you have to let them figure it out for themselves. Keep ‘em on their toes.”
Colin nodded. “Keep ‘em on their toes, I like that.”
…
By the end of the week, someone had started a hashtag in support of Colin, though he wasn’t sure whether it was in support of him being gay, or him not being gay. However, the mass media attention made it perfect for him to stand up for what he believed in.
“Are you sure about this?” Michael stood behind him, his freakishly long arms wrapped around his shoulders, and his head resting on top of Colin’s. “I don’t suppose your social media manager likes you doing this without consulting her.”
“I’ve got to do what’s right, innit?” Colin shrugged, thumb hovering over the button. “Do you think I should post this?”
“I’m with you, whatever you decide to do.” He kissed Colin’s cheek.
Colin hit post and turned around. He looked up into Michael’s eyes, the curious look and furrowed brows. “I deserve a celebratory kiss, wouldn’t you think so?”
“Would be absolutely criminal not to.” Michael took a hold of Colin’s chin and pulled him in, pressing their lips together, softly.
Colin could feel Michael’s grin against his lips. “What are you smiling about?” He asked, faces still pressed together so close that Colin might as well have said it into Michael’s mouth.
“Can’t I be happy from kissing my fella?”
If Colin got a little weak in the knees, well, you couldn’t blame him.
…
Number Twelve ✓ @Colin_Hughes
I want to thank you all for the love and support coming in over the past few days. It’s fantastic that people are finally talking about what I’ve been fighting for in my personal and public life for years: Welsh Independence. #IstandwithColin
[Attached image: An image of Colin’s lamborghini now wrapped with a peculiar design; the Welsh flag. Colin is in the car, sticking his head out the window.]