Carlton, Senior Listed Player, 2009, Steven Browne
Steven
Steven Browne, reprehensible reprobate and rebounding defender, has the look of a young man on the move; hopefully not next door to you, I might add, but I won't. As a neighbour, you wouldn't dare do unto him what he would do to you, unless you are.
The Hair: if Steven's hair could, you should grow it long to cover up the unsightly business going on under it; namely, his face. You'd wish, if you happened to be seated opposite him, that you, yourself, could be cast into a farting bucket of arseholes for relief.
The Teeth: Steven's should be sewn into the back of his head, so he can get an idea of what it feels like to have it done to him. You couldn't possibly imagine the agony his dentist goes through when he's opening up Steven's cavity for a good lick: pure hell.
The Skin: despite many skin-grafts, Steven's soul-holder, leathery as buggery, is as leathery as the nose up your arse. Dermatologists, getting the gist through a quick skim, are dismayed about the horrible bags and rings under his arse, yet they say nothing.
Gai Waterhouse says: "I see Steven around the traps, from time to time. We're just not sure what kind of things he likes to eat. I'm told that he eats rocks, but I've never seen him. I think my husband is trying to kill me. If anything happens to me, I want to be cremated."
