DEAR mirror, I have gazed into you for 11 hours a day over several decades and now I need to ask you something.
Am I actually a twat? It never would have crossed my mind before. I’m ‘the’ Johnny Depp, right? I used to go out with Kate Moss and starred in overrated Tim Burton films.
But look at me now. I’m 86 per cent beard dye. Without various cosmetic treatments I’d look like David Jason. I wish I had the money to get my blood swapped with a 14-year-old boy, but according to my ex-wife’s divorce lawyer that’s not a ‘necessary living expense’.
But just getting older doesn’t make you a twat. Morgan Freeman’s older than me and he doesn’t get kids throwing eggs at his car. Where did it all go wrong?
“Nobody watches pirate films,” they said. “You can just pocket the cash then go off and do a super edgy Lars Von Trier film about heroin addicts. Yes it says in the contract you have to do the sequels but there won’t be any because pirates are basically the old-fashioned version of shoplifters.”
I remember that fateful meeting like it was yesterday. And now here I am, sitting in an empty house with just a table, the script for Pirates vs Optimus Prime and of course a full length mirror.
Am I a twat? You’d tell me, wouldn’t you? Actually no don’t. I know the answer. I’m cool.