'I like your style, friend': Max

May 21, 2014
The third post in the 'sorta series' of photos of my stylish friends imaginatively titled 'I like your style, friend'

My long-suffering brother Max, or as I call him The Dishonourable Max of Pembridge, or Maaaaax *in a whiny voice when I want all his red Percy Pigs*, or Maxipad, or Maxi, or...you get the idea. I suspect he (not-so) secretly hates me.

Chillin' like a villain in his digs. Damn it feels good to be a Notting Hill gangsta. Maxin' and relaxin'. Yes, the bad 'gangsta' puns could roll in all day, but can you blame me when all his Spotify updates are somewhere along the lines of 'Max is listening to the entire catalogue of rap and hip hop from the '80s to the '00s?'. We're both gangsters in the same mold, that is, the sort that name their hamsters Coolio and L.V cos they're spending most their lives livin' in a hamsta's paradise.  

Maxcessories (hahahhaa): Johnny Cash voice, signet ring, pocket square, blazers, and camera.

At his house, posing for him.

Forced him to wear my Coco de Mer 'Persephone' bra.

He says the following to me everytime I get my camera out:

Max: "Godamnit Jasiminne! Are you taking a picture? No more pictures! You're going to post them on your damn blog aren't you! I wanted to join Instagram but now I don't dare to because I'll see the full extend of how much you've humiliated me on there! Stop taking bloody pictures of me! What happens in my house stays in my house...and on Facebook...and on Twitter...Stop it Jasiminne! God you're annoying."

Just this one, then.

He used my riding crop to stir his beer with. But I smacked him numerous times across the thighs (and legs) with it and also with my spanking paddle so I consider us even.

I like telling people that we're related by blood. See any resemblance? 


Ok, just my brother from another mother then.


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