Join Us In Our Collective Thirst Over This Video Of Daddy Stanley Tucci Making A Cocktail

We’ve all extremely established that isolation time is exactly the same as airport time, right? In that time itself doesn’t exist and doesn’t matter, and so if you want to have a cocktail at 11.30am on a Wednesday then you absolutely are allowed to. Especially if ultimate daddy Stanley Tucci is showing you how to make it.

Everything is content, baby, and that absolutely includes Daddy Tucc, with his dulcet tones and perfect style, guiding us through a cocktail masterclass right in his kitchen.

Ohh baby, this is the good shit. Hook it directly to my veins.

Before me stands an immaculately-dressed man in pants (!) with a belt (!!) making my favourite cocktail, a Negroni (!!!) and soothing me with his voice. I’m not sure if it’s the isolation and sheer deprivation of human interaction or what but I’m wildly turned on by this.

Just…look at it.

The way his polo shirt cinches in at all the right places and sits so tight on his arms as he pours a double shot of gin into a shaker is getting me all hot under the collar. When did he get so ripped? What’s going on? I’m as dehydrated as a marathon runner in the middle of the Nullabor here.

Even just the way he says “ubiquitous Milanese cocktail” has me basically slipping off my chair. Is this too horny to be watching during work hours? Absolutely yes. But I’m working from home so who gives a right shit. Nobody’s looking over my shoulder at me drooling over Tucci making a perfect Negroni.

After shaking the cocktail up (which I refuse to talk about, lest I get absolutely fired) he shrugs and says “you can do it on the rocks” which I assume has absolutely destroyed half his fanbase. You sly bastard, Stanley Tucci, you know exactly what you’re doing here.

I can’t even get mad at him for not chilling his glass before serving up the Negroni. Or for shaking the thing instead of stirring it. He gets a free pass for this one for merely making us all insanely thirsty for our own cocktail hour – which I might have to bring forward to about 1pm at this rate.

I’m absolutely not the only one totally losing my mind over how suave and sultry this all is. Let these incredibly het-up tweets speak for me.

This deserves to be framed and hung up on the wall in Horny Jail, sweet Christ on a bike.

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