Funny that this topic of the week should come up ...
February last year. I'm sitting in the bar, surrounded by mates (and women) who were lapping up my every word as I told brilliant joke after brilliant joke, not easy after 26 pints but then again, I've always been able to hold my booze like a hero.

A guy comes up to me, American accent I can hear. "I'm sure you hear this all the time," he says, "but you look just like George Clooney. I run an agency for body doubles, and I think it was meant to be." I didn't want to go, I'd worked hard enough as it is to become Creative Director of Apple UK, but then again the seven-figure salary offered was quite tempting.

We got over to LA in the morning. The plane we booked had broken down, but luckily I had just met Hugh Hefner - what a guy! - in the first class lounge. We hit it off instantly, and after a couple of drinks and manly jokes, he offers us a lift in his private jet. Carnage all over the place! I must say, my penis dined well that night. Anyhow, after bidding goodbye to the 16 Playboy bunnies that I 'entertained,' turning down no less than 6 offers of marriage, I get round to my first day of shooting.

'Shooting' was certainly what I did a lot of, seeing as George didn't turn up, and because all the sets had been booked and paid for, I had to fill in a whole day's work for George. Luckily, I could do my own stunts, as I had previously trained as a WWF wrestler back when they were based in Barnet, and also knew my way around a gun pretty well after my three tours of duty in Iraq. It was an action movie, as you can probably guess, but luckily there was also a scene where I got to do a certain Jessica Alba. She's shorter in real life.

From there, it got even more unbelievable, as director Steven Spielberg had been kidnapped by Islamic fundamentalists on account of him being Jewish. Why can't we all just get along? I, for one, am instantly best mates with every person I meet. Like Eminem, Nelson Mandela, Hillary Clinton and every member of the Arctic Monkeys, all of whom were involved in some way as I mounted an incredible rescue mission where my abrupt Northern manner and lessons I'd somehow learned in the pub proved their worth over and over again and everybody, even the Islamic fundamentalists, agreed what a fantastic guy I am.

I remain forever,

Legless.
(CerberaSpeedTwelve, Mon 24 Sep 2007, 23:56, Reply)