Yesterday, the faggy went to meet Charlie Cox off-of bloke who becomes fit as a butcher’s dog at the end of ma fave moviefilm Stardust.
‘Sit down,’ he said, ushering me into his dressing room. ‘I’ve got to get changed. You don’t mind, do you?’ Mind? Do I fuck!…
First, whilst I pretended to chat about the integrity of stage over film, the top came off (his, not mine: even I’m not that cheap) to expose a fantastically ripped torso. Not too Conan the Barbarian but just enough to make a girl think.
‘With acting, I just think it’s so important to focus on the things that are really, really important,’ he said. ‘Me too!’ I replied staring at his aftershave-ad back muscles. ‘I mean, you have to grab opportunities when they come up,’ he continued. ‘Absolutely!’ I replied as he slipped off his trousers to reveal legs to die for.
All too soon it was time to leave as Charlie had a show to do. ‘It was lovely meeting you,’ he said as I grabbed him in a headlock masquerading as a kiss goodbye. ‘And hopefully we’ll see each other again.’
You betcha! In fact, sooner than you think as you have the lead in a little fantasy I have in mind for later…