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In Defence of Shurley

[ 26 September 2013 | Print This Post ]
26 September 2013

By Gemma Brosnan

THE last time I saw Warney he was holding a mojito in one hand, a fag in the other, roots proudly shining through a mop of straw hair as he beamed from ear to ear eyeing up the hot waitress. That was a few months before he shacked up with lovely Liz and for better or worse, the boy has never been the same since.

Despite his protestations that the metrosexual makeover was entirely his own brainwave and a reflection of his newly balanced lifestyle, most struggled to believe that the iconic Aussie larrikin had fallen in love with a pair of tweezers off his own back.

He took a panning from those who mourned the loss of the irrepressible alpha male as he slowly morphed into an overheated Barbie’s Ken, but the headlines hell-raising brought him weren’t particularly flattering either so I can’t imagine they managed to touch his freshly plucked sides. Even if those sides were increasingly less robust than those required to bounce back from a tabloid exposed threesome involving a giant inflatable dildo.

But as the Daily Mail ran fashion pieces ripping apart his Ronseal varnish tan and pastel dandy trousers, I found it refreshingly sweet that despite all the stunners he’d seen from Stringy’s to Las Vegas, he was madly in love with an older model and not afraid to show it.

There were post-coital smug shots blasted out straight from the duvet, messages of love to Liz’s parrot, gropey displays of raw attraction and happy family days out with a solid sapphire ring signalling wedding bells on the horizon.

Liz gushed about how they came from the same place – self-made, humble beginnings with strong family values – as he raved on about her healthy shakes and age-defying beauty. Hugh couldn’t get enough of him, his kids called her Mummy 2. They splashed out £6 million on a 13 bedroom Herefordshire estate.

A few weeks ago, the fairytale took a turn for the weird. The tweets abruptly stopped and the ring came off. Warney partied with friends in Melbourne to celebrate turning 44, Liz hit New York feeling ‘raw and emotional’. The rumour mill tripped over itself trying to find an answer, the lack of a concrete wedding date being the most obvious and a reunion with his ex-wife tipping in at number two.

For those waiting with baited breath for confirmation of a split to prove the English rose and Aussie rogue never had a chance, I hope they’re wrong. It’s far too easy to hate Liz and mock Warney’s tangerine transformation, but I can’t imagine finding love in your 40s with their kind of baggage is easy and in between making us want to puke, they’ve given us all a bit of hope.

And their wedding photos have far too much potential.


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