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A golden shaft of autumn sunshine pierces through the leafy canopy of a thick Scottish woodland. ‌

Russell Winklemartin has never felt so at one with nature or so touch with his inner self as he does right here and now. As a matter of fact, he might just have been born for this very high profile role. ‌

Those luscious trademark locks are shimmering like silk in the late afternoon glow. ‌

Granted, the eye shadow might have been slapped on a bit too thick and, if truth be told, it clashes a little with the beard.

But, who cares? He’s blissfully happy here, among the trees.

‘I’ll tell you this much, no-one’s laughing at my gentleman’s boots now,’ he smiles to himself as he strolls through the castle grounds. That’s 350 quid well spent. ‌

And the tweed ca

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