Faking not stirred
I used to work at The (once great) Scotsman newspaper. A man once phoned our London office asking to speak to the newsroom there.

"Who's calling, please?" the receptionist asked.

"Sean Connery."

"Sorry?"

"Sean Connery."

"Sean Connery, the film star?"

"Yesh."

"You're having a laugh."

"No, thish ish Sean Connery."

"Very funny. Bugger off. Why would a film star phone this rag?"

She no longer works there.

And Big Tam no longer picks up the phone to speak to the paper - as he used to do before that call.
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Mon 20 Apr 2009, 13:53, 1 reply)

Sadly from Snopes, but great nonetheless:
Friend of a friend of a friend was somehow at a dinner with Sean Connery
and his cronies at Gleneagles last weekend. Everyone was getting nicely
pickled and chatting about cinematic anecdotes - then someone asks: "what
we really want to know, Sean, is who was the best shag you ever had?" He
grins, and says: "too many journalishts and gobshites here, boysh." Fair
enough. Everyone gets far more pissed, and just before the revels end,
said friend of a friend of a friend gets tapped on shoulder. It is a very
pissed Connery, who simply says: "Petula Clark. 1963. Up the arsh." And
walks away to his waiting car.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Mon 20 Apr 2009, 14:05, closed)