To conclude our Seasonal Special, the 12 Nobs of Christmas, we have this wonderful submission from @Wormstir via Twitter.
This Leaping Lord was snapped opposite a nobby bar in Chamonix. His gimpy headwear and dribbly whang belie his blue blood: the Nobservatory suspects he may be called Jonty or Tarquin
a nob taking his grossly outsized package for a jaunt on the piste.
The inscription on the abdomen reads "Lucky". It could be that the nobartist is rather jealous of this Fresh Prince of Bell End, dangling his massive swinger, merrily spunking away and quaffing martinis in his nobby local bar, never realising how priviledged he is while the nobartist cringes outside, alone in the cold with his stumpy little pencil.
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