I know you’re out there – the Gerard Butler fan club. I know he’s your quiveration. And while I’m not a beefcake girl myself, I can understand why he might set your loins afire.

But dude…

This is all kindsa wrong.

Gerry at the Victoria’s Secret show last night – as you can see, as Bridget’s mother would say, he’s so orange he’s practically purple. And he could barely do up his jacket. So either get a bigger one or lay off the hops for a week, you know what mean?

But the worst is the pants. And you know the importance of pants. Jakey G’s pants issue is one thing. But tight pants??? Tight pants that wrap around the package?

Sorry. But this is not the cover of a Harlequin cheese ass romance. And this is not Chippendales. And now all I can picture is Gerry Butler wearing leather pants on a stage with a shower while small town underserviced women with bad highlights hoot and holler with a fistful of dollar bills in one hand and fake nails that have snapped off during the course of the night in the other.

Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong!

Loosen up the pants!

Splash