More from Dylan Jones
Technically, according to the laws of physics, model Francisco Lachowski shouldn’t exist. There’s even an equation:
Pout ÷ hair flip + drink spillingly perfect smile x 0% body fat = Oh-For-Fuck’s-Sake-Just-Climb-Back-Onto-Your-Plinth-In-Abercrombie-&-Fitch-And-Give-The-Rest-Of-Us-A-Chance. Cubed.
Basically, he’s too beautiful. There should be a prison or unit somewhere where the world’s incomprehensibly inviting adonises are incarcerated in a safe, calming environment and given toys
to play with (stop it). Either that or distributed equally among the needy. Despite all that though,we’ve played this video four times in the last hour. Before long an audience had gathered, consisting
of fellow flatmates and friends of fellow flatmates. The cleaner stood behind us, mouth slightly open, slowly polishing the same spoon. The goldfish swum to the side of its bowl nearest the screen.
We even looked in the mirror and tried to do the same seductive grin/fringe toss combo Francisco does languorously on that sun lounger thing that for some reason is inside. And no, sorry, don’t try
the whole “looks aren’t the most important thing” routine. We don’t care whether he knows what pi equals, or the Latin name of the Asiatic lion, or that Riga’s the capital of Latvia. And if he was on your
sofa (or inexplicably inward sun lounger), in a pair of boxer shorts, neither would you. No matter how many times you’ve completed The Guardian crossword.