Mick Hucknall is operating unverified, unsheathed, on Twitter shouting about politics and wine while in the bath – a bath that, suspiciously, looks like it’s full to the brim with piss.
Mick’s bathroom is not something that I often find myself thinking about, but now, as spring curls itself around us and thaws me from my winter slumber, I think not of what coat I should’ve worn instead of the woefully inadequate jacket chosen and am left wondering what the lead singer of Simply Red is doing with his downtime.
This insight into Mick's world has left me with more questions than answers:
Is that a disposable camera at the bottom of Mick Hucknall’s bathtub?
Because it does look like it; somehow much more so than the bar of soap it probably is. And what kind of sheer horror would be contained on its roll of film? Presumably Hucknall forgoes the usual Snapchat-filtered bathtub selfies that the rest of us, non-lead singer of Simply Red types might plump for, and wants the sight of his pink body and orange hair and yellow water, like a unctuous mass of several pressed-together Fruit Salad sweets, stained onto a slice of transparent plastic with gelatin emulsion and microscopically small, light-sensitive silver halide crystals forever. He’s old school like that.
Is that, in the bottom right hand corner of Mick Hucknall’s bathtub, two proving loaves of bread?
I honestly have no idea what rich people – at last Google, Hucknall is worth around £45million – use to wash themselves so if you told me they dried themselves with flatbread or stones or plates or Polyfilla or whatever the fuck else that is, I would be inclined to believe you.
Is that a rubber duck?
Yes, that is a rubber duck. I was just testing you.
Is Mick Hucknall stretching his legs out to make himself appear taller online?
Also yes, I would suggest he is.
Is that piss in Mick Hucknall’s bathtub?
From the colour you’d be inclined to say: yes, quite possibly. Further questions were raised in the office about the ability of one man to piss enough piss into his own bathwater to turn that tub – presumably a quite considerably-sized tub – yellow on his own, but I’m pretty sure: this is Hucknall’s piss.
Now, dig it: Hucknall is a noted fan of red wine and so it’s safe to say that he drinks a lot of it. Maybe the Mancunian singer, now 56, would be far more grey and sallow than his current cantaloupe were it not for so much vino. Anyway, let’s say he drinks loads, so the alcohol slowly starts to dehydrate him, right, to the point where, in the early afternoons, when Mick washes himself, his urine is the colour of weeks old Irn-Bru. That would taint a whole lot of already Mick-muckied bath water.
And finally: is Mick Hucknall dedicating his pissed-in bath to the writer Sarah Vine or simply dedicating his bath-negotiating time?
The writer of Daily Mail Brexit/Legs-It notoriety has gotten a fair bit of bad press today, something which her paper are no doubt happy to be sloshing about in like Mick is his own juices, so I think we can probably take a fair ol’ punt and say: yes, this one’s for you.