From the chin down he's a dozen kinds of fuck yes, though. Such thunderous masculinity. Pondering that formidable definition always leads me to imagine expending a tremendous amount of duct tape on a rainy afternoon in a secluded hotel. Tra la containment la la la.
Did you know he used to bang Kate Moss? I'm not sure how I feel about that. She's always seemed such a vacant lot to me, like something empty cans rattle across in a high wind.
He's probably exactly the same, but I forgive his highly-polished arse because I'd like to fuck him. Ahhh, hotness exemptionalist paradigm- where would our species be without you?