Hugo Yunker: Hunter Becomes Prey

YanYan aka Hugo Yunker


YanYan aka Hugo Yunker with titties and spoon necklace


I really like YanYan. I hate to admit that because she's kind of cocky and i wouldn't want to feed her ego. She often says, writes or creates things that makes me say, "I wish I had thought of that." Most of our communication has been saying really terrible things to each other over the internet. She drinks sparks and eats sardines every night for dinner.

She herself is the broad that has combed endless porn sites, finding people we mutually know engaged in publicly viewable sex acts. Her direct discoveries have wound up on Wee Ginger Cunt no less than 3 times, maybe 4. This is an important fact because in a classier and way rad way SHE has joined the ranks of internet porn personality when she modeled for Richard Kern and became the subject of an episode of the Vice TV show, Shot by Kern. She’s fucking stoked to be shot by such a revered shutterbug and I’m fucking stoked to FINALLY see her vagina. I thought Chinese girls’ pussies opened left to right?!??


If you like to see her speak and move those bare breasts and that spoon necklace around please see here:

Giger Resurgence

I have said on this very blog that 2009 is the year of the ginger; our year to shine. There are gingers popping up in the damndest places. Dont trip if there's a red president in 2012.

This is what the late-to-the-ging-party motherfuckers at Vice had to say about it. I love you Viceland!



The ginger resurgence
This post was written on March 17, 2009
Posted Under: hair



Either redheads have been getting way more action over the past few decades than we all thought, or L’Oreal’s sales of red hair dye have gone supersonic, because there are a hell of a lot of new gingers out there at the moment.

I can only assume that this is yet another part of the 90s revival, along with dungarees, DMs and people who, despite the fact they were about seven when it came off air, talking about how much they loved My So Called Life.

If, like me, you are now sprouting grey hairs, you will remember with nostalgia the first joyful application of rancid, eye-watering, toxic red hair dye. I think the shade I first turned to was something called “Berry Heaven” and I got it for about £2 from Boots. I remember stroking all the little nylon strips stuck along the bottom of the shelf that were supposed to show you how your hair was going to look after three hours of red battery acid scorching your head. The result, of course, never turned out like expected.

My friend Alix reminded me the other day of mahogany Shaders and Toners. Remember that? And can you remember hair mascara? Sweet mother of ill-advised attempts at punk! It was like wiping emulsion on your hair. It came out at around the same time many of my friends were trying to look like Angel from Home and Away by plaiting the two little bits of hair at the front (take note, 90s revivalists) and wearing anything white and made of crochet. By combining these fringe plaits with hair mascara, we successfully managed to make ourselves look like the entrance to a car wash.

The best thing about all those red 90s hair dyes was the fruity names the cosmetics companies had to resort to in order to disguise the fact that they were basically selling bottled gingivitis (I know, I know, that’s a side effect of malnutrition, but come on, it works). There was plum, cherry, bronze, berry, auburn, burnt caramel, mahogany and copper. Sometimes you’d get a combination of the two, so, for example, my friend Milly was a burnt copper-mahogany girl. No matter what combination you had, the colour always lightened to a glorious shade of Boris Becker after only a few hours in the sun.

The combination of semi-permanent plum hair dye and Sun-In will go down in fashion history as one of the worst hairborne toxic events in the twentieth century. And this summer, with all that newly dyed red hair flicking about, it will be creeping back on to the scalps of unsuspecting young hipsters across the country.

You have been warned.

NELL FRIZZELL