You know Robert Pattinson? Allergic to vaginas and a face which conveys about as much emotion as a cement-mixer? Yeah, that guy. Well, if you’re a woman and you’re thinking you might be able to convince him that not all minges are abhorrent things, think again. That’s because he’s probably going deaf.
Those daydreams you’ve had about dangling your leg over the side of a small rowing boat on a summer’s day, glass of champagne in one hand and a strawberry in the other, whispering sweet nothings into the ear of the world’s favourite vampire are nothing but dead skin, shaved off a very pointless cracked heel.
You see, as it stands, Pattinson’s ears are about as much use as a welding mask made out of beef dripping and, because you idiots insist on screaming at him every single bloody time you see him, his ear deteriorate a little bit more, leaving him so profoundly deaf that, eventually, he’ll end up talking like Charlie Brown’s school teacher.
Yep.
That’s your fault, you blood-curdling, wailing, hysterical fan.
