“To think,” said Suave Gav, mulling over his Martini, “some would choose to adulterate this finest of man’s inventions with the common potato-base vodka.”
“Yuk,” said Jane.
“What utter debasement,” said Dick. “Holy hell, surely you want your martini to taste of something?”
“Now, now,” said Ethel. “We’ve been over this many times.”
“Sorry darling,” Gavin replied. “But martini is an art form and if you’ll allow me a moment’s immodesty, I regard myself as the Michaelangelo of said form. Actually, probably not Michaelangelo. Michaelangelo tended to use male models for his female figures, which explains why parts of the Sistine Chapel look like a women’s rugby team.”
“Lord,” said Dick, fiddling with his cocktail stick. “Why would he do that?”
“Because he was a raging poofter,” said Gavin firmly.
“Really, dear,” said Ethel.
“Sorry darling,” repeated Gavin. “Poor chap tried his best with some of the most gorgeous women of the time, and drew them with great accuracy. But he was never happy with the drawings and always reworked them; adding muscle tone; trimming those fullsome breasts so they looked more like well-honed pects; fleshing out their waists and tightening their little bottoms. Soon they all looked like wrestlers.”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” said Jane.
“Indeed,” said Gavin. “And Signore Buonarroti’s eye could only detect beauty in women if they were incredibly butch. Not that I have anything against confirmed bachelors, or incredibly butch women for that matter. But I shouldn’t imagine in reality The Creation Of Eve involved quite such devotion to the Charles Atlas programme.” It was a bizarre rant and unfortunately showed no signs of ending anytime soon.
“Rubens, on the other hand, was never one to shy away from female flesh. He used female models for everything. Large, plump ones. The bigger the better. Even if he was only painting a still life, he’d insist on a big fat girl lolling around the studio stuffing her face with pies. Poor fellow. Drove him mad eventually.”
“You’re the Rubens of the Martini?” said LaFlamme.
“Yes,” said Gavin. “It has a nice ring to it.”
“I like a nice fat girl,” said Dick.