Hugh Hefner Obituary.

This morning the news reached me that Hugh Hefner had died. My immediate reaction was "oh I didn't know he was still on the go". Then I chuckled and said "well he's not now, I suppose". I felt a bit bad about that, you shouldn't laugh at folk dying really and I didn't mean to. I was just being a smart arse to myself. Sorry to all the bereaved Hefners.

I've often thought I would have had quite a lot in common with Hugh Hefner if I was a bit different in real life. When I used to smoke I thought it would be quite the thing to have a special separate jacket just for smoking fags, then I'd sort of forget about it and buy a different thing instead, such as a hat. Hugh didn't just forget about it and buy a hat. He had loads of special jackets for smoking fags in and became very well known for it.

Like Benny Hill, Hugh paid all these really good looking women to cut about with him and make out they fancied him but unlike Benny Hill they didn't do chases to funny music and if I'm honest it kind of looked a bit preposterous. More so as he got older. I've never paid women, good looking or homely, to pretend to fancy me and I think having all those folk hanging about my house would get annoying. I usually go to the pub when I have workmen in and I'd likely do the same with workwomen so we're a bit different that way too.

On reflection I am nothing like Hef. He was his own guy.

Suzanne Moore has written a piece here that paints a fairly depressing picture of life as bunny. Based on my own experience of work I'd rate it about call centre and can only imagine the distress of the bunnies when Viagra was invented. I suspect it would have been an altogether easier shift in the years leading up to that mixed blessing escaping the lab. I expect they felt much as I did when the order to mis-sell PPI or face a three-month "action contract" (snakespeak for the sack) descended from Mount Bastard to the shop floor. It was not long after that I left. Don't misunderstand me I sold the PPI, it's just the horror of doing so made me get off my arse and get another job.

In one key way Hugh was better than me in that he cleaned up after his dogs did their business on the carpet and didn't get a bunny to do it. I am terrible with shit, it's a phobia - like spiders. I would have got anyone else but me to do it up to and including a bunny. I am actually terrified of holding babies on account of their shitting. It's real, don't judge me. The worst thing that could happen to me is being chased by a giant spider made of shit. Piss, vomit and blood I'd prefer to avoid but can wield a wipe to deal with. Shit is the worst thing ever.

I am also aware that Hugh thew a bit of cash at the odd liberal social cause and that some people are using this as a means to say "hey you guys Hugh was actually a good guy". To which I say stop making excuses or seeking to justify your love of a splendid idiot. We like what we like. I myself, cannot come up with anything to justify my love of Barbara Cartland beyond, "fucking look at her". Heff was a delusional, selfish big arse with some nice impulses, much like the rest of us.

My last and most personal reflection here relates to a time that a man made me watch a Playboy video. It was rubbish. The main thing I can remember was a translucent curtain swaying on a breeze. For that to be the main thing one remembers from a porno is damning. There might have been a saxophone but I don't know if I've made that up to make it sound more interesting. It was the worst porno ever and once it had finished I left the man's flat never to return. To the best of my knowledge Hefner has never explained why he commissioned this film.

I'm sad another daft character has left the earth but hey ho good innings. My main wish at this time is that someone changes the inscription on Marilyn Monroe's grave to "Gie's peace, Hugh".