The last time I saw Effy was the same day that I saw the Devil. I don’t mean this as a vaguely misogynistic metaphor, I literally mean the Devil. I understand how that sounds, believe me, but I’m going to try and rationalise it by saying that it wasn’t like he was strutting around on his cloven hooves waving a pitchfork above his head. He was wearing a suit, as it happens. It looked quite nice. Expensive. Tasteful. It was a strong look. (more…)
