The Wellywood sign is the equivalent of a guy in his late forties who spends a whole dinner party pointing out to every single person that he’s grown a ‘stache and his wife told him it makes him look a bit like George Clooney in The Men Who Stare At Goats. And every time the object of his deluded bragging fails to hide their scorn, disbelief or nervous giggling, he fakes a laugh and says “Well a guy can try, can’t he?”
And then five minutes later you see him cornering the hostess to let her know how his wife totally thinks his stache makes him look a little like George Clooney.
He completely lacks the awareness to recognise that by trying to convince people he looks a bit like George Clooney he merely emphasises the massive lack of resemblance and focuses everyone’s attention on how much that moustache is a withered caterpillar-shaped symbol of his desperate need to pretend he’s not going through a midlife crisis.
And when not a single person at the dinner party can convincingly agree with him (and this being New Zealand one or two of the guys are probably just openly mocking him for being a tool with an ugly mo), he starts getting super-defensive and insisting it’s just a fucking joke and why can’t you wankers just lighten the fuck up?
And he will never, ever be able to admit that he isn’t George Clooney, isn’t even close, and no nubile young women are going to fuck him based on vaguely-similar facial hair, and that stache will stubbornly remain on his face making him look like a fucking twerp for the rest of his life.
Thing is, he’s only making himself (and possibly his spouse and any children they had pre-stache) look like a twerp. The Wellington Airport board,* which I’m totally sure has no demographic resemblance to white male douchewads with midlife crises, are making us all look like twerps.
*Because let’s be honest, who even fucking knew it was called Wild At Fucking Heart until this week? I thought that was the name of one of the naff souvenir shops.