Jon-Paul Gauche. in the words of The-Devil-Wears-YoYo. he’s finished. he’ll never work in this industry again.
it was said that anything that entered the mouth of Jon-Paul Gauche would become Haute Couture. few chose to risk anything but a hand, but the results impressed; hands exited his gob with decoden nails, gold leaf gloves and phat rings. eventually people entrusted their handbags, hair and pets to dear Jon-Paul’s mouth, and he obliged.
Jon-Paul’s fall from grace occurred during his greatest moment. he had been invited to the imperial palace, to suck the emperor’s toes. unbeknownst to the him, Tim the Bastard had slipped past the guards, planted himself on the arm of the throne, unslipped a shoe, and inconspicuously placed his toes next to the emperor’s.
Jon-Paul had just finished bedazzling the the 10th piggy when he wrapped his lips around the 11th, unwittingly sealing his fate. he looked up, and shrieked. being infected with Bastardism was very much off-theme and off-brand, and no-one has placed anything in his mouth since. not even food.