Aaaaaah. Lovely, lovely Gruff. Your name makes you sound like a grumpy old pub dog that’s been relegated to the outside kennel ‘cos it stinks of piss and sheds hair all over the Axminster carpet. But your face! Well . . . That speaks of kindness, and intelligence, and exudes a gentle sexiness, and I’d very much like to rub my face all over yours. Gruff Rhys is a relaxed and articulate true creative: the product of major hippie parents (I’m 99% certain I read somewhere that his dad’s a druid). He used to sometimes come in a hippie shop I worked in (Gruff that is, not his dad). He’s really tall and SO FUCKING NICE and everyone loves him. Especially me.
(And especially also Rebecca Jones, so this post is for her xx)