In perhaps the most shocking news of… well… an entire generation of human beings, Hugh Hefner’s relationship with Crystal Harris is over. Who would have ever thought that those two – one a similar age to fossil fuels, the other a 25 year old with dollar signs in her eyes – wouldn’t work out?
And all this happened 5 days before their wedding, which was going to be entirely pink.
Shame. We would have liked to see Hef in a pink tux, struggling to stay on his feet for the duration of a wedding service while a young woman stood beside him, licking her lips seductively at Hugh’s younger pals.
The Playboy founder, mournfully caressing his penis pump, acknowledged the split via Twitter yesterday. Harris also came out with a statement:
“After much deep reflection and thought, I have decided to end my engagement with Hef. I have the utmost respect for Hef and wish him the best going forward.”
Going forward? The poor old coot is so ancient that he’s probably only got a matter of days to live. And a woman call Crystal had decided to stomp on his heart, which resembled dried fruit covered in dust anyway.
You heartless, grinning monster.
So who is she looking at for a ride instead? Well, people are coughing the name Jordan McGraw, but Harris’ rep says this is a “complete fabrication.” Besides, what’s the betting that Hef wouldn’t really mind if she played away? It seems likely that Hefner would like to get married and still enjoy the nubile gals of his Playboy Mansion, even if it does take him around 3 months to get something close to an erection.
Another rumour is that Crystal wanted more than her “couple hundred dollar” weekly allowance from Hugh (which is achingly sweet… we reckon that Hef still thinks you can buy a house for $1,000 and that cola still has cocaine in it) which was hampering her dreams of a singing career.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.
Still, we imagine Hugh will be generating a single, solitary tear tonight (which, thanks to the lack of moisture in his ancient body, will probably see him lose a limb) before he has his Ovaltine and switches on his electric blanket.
The greatest love-affair the world ever knew is finally over. Love is dead.
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