Contained within the Shooting Lounge at The Mansion is an attractive Edwardian Drinking Cabinet. Contained therein is an eclectic range of alcoholic drinks and concoctions. It is rarely used as the usual location for such requirements is the Globe. The Globe contains other delights & wonders of which we shall say no more.
Lady Andrea, who can do whatever she pleases as far as I’m concerned, decided to peruse the contents within the cabinet. Her eyes fell upon a bottle cleary marked “Don’t Drink Me”. In actual fact it was labelled “Trunk much night” – oh the irony.
Being partial to guzzling all sorts of liquids she polished it off in one.
Also therein was a cake. Emblazoned upon it were currants (I think they were currants) arranged to spell “Don’t Eat Me”. Ironically, as it turns out, this was spelled thusly: “ISS much night”. She didn’t eat all of it: just half. Then she ate the other half.
Then, she slept the sleep of the innocent.
When she awoke, she was well pissed off:
Next week sees the world exclusive BarbarElla interview with Special Correspondent Amazone.
Pictured here is Amazone after conducting the interview. She’s obviously been told loads of stuff which will prove controversial and embarrassing to a load of dickheads in the entertainment world.
Special correspondent Amazone is currently on assignment but has blabbed to Louise who, in turn told Astrid, who then told Anna who then blabbed to Aphrodite who then told LydiE who then told me: Amazone has scored an interview with world-renowned pop diva and actress, that nut-job, BarbarElla.
The crazed recluse is hiding somewhere (probably in her luxurious apartment in Paris) trying to avoid being shot into space all because of a film. Nevertheless she’s been singing like a Canary Island blaming some twat for all sorts of shit. Whoever this twat is must be a total wanker: he’s even responsible for when Nico floored her at some publicity event.
Obviously under the influence, she’s blabbed all about LydiE, Keith Richard and some ego-maniac and his lunatic ideas (that’ll be Reed Carol)
Amazone says it can only go on here if I don’t ‘fuck about‘ with the interview and ‘print’ the copy as is. Why would I want to alter it? It sounds great to me. Another World Exclusive and, on the very day, I announced who the sexiest girl in the Southern Hemisphere is and dealt with some politician in New Zealand.
Bloody hell, I can’t leave you twats alone for five minutes.
This is a transcript of this morning’s historic broadcast by my close and personal friend, Boris Johnson, Prime Minister:
“I am speaking to you from the cabinet room at 10 Downing Street.
Last night the British ambassador in Paris handed the French government a final note stating that unless we received from them by 11 o’clock the full series of Stingray which BarbarElla doesn’t want anyone to know about, a state of annoyance would exist between us.
I have to tell you now that no such series has been received, and that consequently this country is annoyed with France.
You can imagine what a bitter blow it is to me that my long struggle to get this series has failed.
Yet I cannot believe that there is anything more, or anything different, that I could have done and that would have been more successful.
Up to the very last it would have been quite possible to have arranged an honourable settlement between France and us. But Macron would not have it.
He had evidently made up his mind not to give us this series whatever happened, and although he now says he put forward reasonable proposals which were rejected by us, that is not a true statement.
The proposals were never shown to us, and though they were announced on a French broadcast on Thursday night, Macron did not wait to hear our comments on them, but ordered the series be put in a cardboard box and stored in a cupboard under his stairs.
His action shows convincingly there is no chance of expecting that this man will ever give up this series.
We have a clear conscience. We have done all that any country could do.
I know that you will all play your part with calmness and courage and, wherever possible, be rude and obnoxious to the French with whom this country is now, formally annoyed with”.
Bloody hell. I’m just glad not to be mixed up in this dreadful business
I’d never heard of this little-known French Sci-fi drama, “Stingray” until tipped off by some tart whose name I won’t mention lest I cause embarrassment.
This mystery informant said, “Thanks for rescuing me from the English Sea where I’d became stranded in an orange dingy. By the way, check out this video of Stingray with BarbarElla in it. Don’t let on it was me, Amazone, who blabbed all about Stingray because BarbarElla hopes no one knows about it”.
I assured Amazone I wouldn’t reveal it was her that told me all about this show BarbarElla hopes no-one knows about.
Well, you could have knocked me down with a brick when, on closer examination, I spotted this:
The UK Government last night handed the French Authorities a note which stated “Unless we receive a satisfactory response (delivery of the full series to our Ambassador in Paris) by 11 am Saturday morning a state of annoyance will exist between our two nations”.
I shall soon have this series in my possession. What else could be hidden in these reels?
BarbarElla swimming about like some sort of mermaid
I had a courier turn up this morning riding a high-powered black motorbike.
It turned out to be a tart. I didn’t know tarts could ride motorbikes – when did that happen?
I said to the delightful creature; “Stay there, you delightful creature”.
I ran off like an excited schoolgirl and got my phone.
When I returned, such was my enthusiasm, I accidently showed her an excellent photo of Lady Andrea’s Arse Hole. This prompted Miss Motorbike 2020 to remove her helmet – so to speak.
We then spent several minutes looking at the picture, zooming in & out, at one point attempting to share it which resulted in my accountant getting a copy of my, now banned, 12-inch penis portrait.
Anyway, and so forth, I eventually located the email from Shepperton Studios detailing the bikes I’m to ride in my new acting job.
She looked at the list for a while before saying: “Are you a professional?”
“Yes, of course”
“Do you race?”
“I don’t recognise all of the names, but the ones I do know are super powerful. They seem to be all racing bikes or huge ones I couldn’t handle because they’re so big and mean and dangerous”.
How we go onto the subject of my penis is beyond me. Perhaps it was Lady Andrea’s arse.
She seemed most impressed with my stable of death machines I’m to go ‘round Silverstone on – at great speed. So much so, she gave me her email and one of those looks which means; “I shall have your cock and use it to my own advantage”.
What the hell am I going to do now?
It’s the Mazda crash all over again – that was on a race track too.
I’m all in a tizzy and shall have to go polo plop before reading the letter she delivered.
Amazon have formally announced the production of the bio-pic BarbarElla.
What a travesty.
It’s now called BarbarElla: My Struggle. What Struggle? Her mother, LydiE is a multi-millionaire pop star, ffs. The biggest struggle she’s ever faced is which diamond tiara to wear when she goes shopping.
Not content with sacking the most beautiful actress to ever appear on screen, Kate Winslet, he’s given the starring role to Adele who is not English, not blonde and not even a singer. Oh, hold on a minute, I just looked at Wikipedia, Adele is English, is a blonde and is even a singer. She’s certainly not mega-famous like BarbarElla or Kate (Winslet). Oh, hold on a minute, she is mega-famous like BarbarElla or Winslet (Kate).
This explains why Adele has mysteriously lost all that weight and transformed her appearance from beautiful to mega-beautiful: to be like BarbarElla or Kate (Winslet).
That twat Reed Carol is now Director and Producer. What an ego maniac. He even sacked BarbarElla herself from the film claiming she would distract from his vision. “His Vision”? It’s her life story. What a twat.
I note Cruise (Tom) is listed as Ass Prod. Ha ha ha, what an ass prod. (He is, nevertheless, still the most marvellous film star since Douglas Fairbanks).
As soon as I can get BarbarElla and Kate (Winslet) to take my calls after my ill-advised siding with Reed Carol before I discovered, again, he’s a twat, I’m going to slag him off behind his back big style.
This whole thing has really upset me. I thought I had a fart on the brew but it was a plop plop and, then, when I went plop plop it was only a fart (again).
That twat Reed Carol
I got the script today for BarbarElla (the bio-pic). Reed Carol has kept to the terms of the contract and given me a speaking part in return for all the help I have given the production.
Here it is
Scene: Ext. Glastonbury:
Man in Crowd: “She’s really good”.
That’s it. ‘Man in Crowd’: that’s me.
What a total twat. He’s never forgiven me for shagging his gorgeous wife. I told him when he caught us I thought she was just a whore but that made him even more furious.
That duplicitous bastard Cruise (Tom) said he’d see me alright – what a great looking and amazing movie star twat he really is.
I can’t wait to tell BarbarElla, Kate (Winslet) and Wendy (Carol). Yes, Wendy Carol.
This whole debacle has rendered me unable to go plop plop. I went, thinking it was a plop plop, but it was just a fart.
After the email I received earlier today, I just received an envelope from a courier service containing a copy of the dreaded Sun.
A publication that I had not yet seen, because usually these tabloids disappear right under the ass of my benevolent shitting and pissing cat.
Again, the editorial rats manipulated and mutilated the news.
This will not benefit me, my dear friend Jane and the production of the outstanding movie.
I think the two people behind this are familiar to me.
And I do not want to mention the names of a certain Lord and someone who claims to be my mother, whom I now also start to doubt about.
Click on to read the entire article those rats produced…
Have you seen this fully accurate and fine piece of reporting in The Sun:
What an excellent article. Journalism at its best
I urgently contact the beautiful, gifted, lovely, multi-award-winning actress Kate (Winslet) urgently seeking the truth regarding ‘Bottom-gate’.
The first “Hello” was me.
The second “Hello” was the beautiful, gifted, lovely, multi-award-winning actress Kate (Winslet).
Look at this tosh in The Sun:
Who supplies them with this nonsense?
The Zoom Meeting, I arranged for Netflix Executives to thrash out a way forward regarding The Most Expensive Movie Ever, Barbarella, was a fiasco.
I’d barely started telling everyone how great I am before Bonnie’s mother joined. Wtf, she doesn’t even work for Netflix. She embarked on a ten-minute diatribe on what a twat I am. This went down well with everyone who fully agreed with her and they then started chipping in with slanderous stuff about me – virtually none of them know me. It didn’t stop them though.
Then loads of other people joined the meeting none of which, as far as I can tell, are anything to do with movies let alone Netflix.
One notable appearance was Ray Stevenson who was under the impression we’re planning to send him into space using Richard Branson’s Virgin Galactic Space Vehicle at a discounted price I’ve agreed with Richard in return for putting Virgin Galactic on all future publicity material and mentioning Virgin Galactic as often as possible and in bold. Ray is a lot more menacing and violent than even his on-screen persona and he made threats towards me which only got more intense after I told him to shut up or I’d give him a slap.
BarbarElla made a brief appearance but left after a series of uncalled for sexual remarks and filthy suggestions – I can’t help it, she’s nearly as hot as Kate (Winslet).
LydiE then joined in saying all sorts of flattering things about my penis and what it did to her. That was the only highlight in this debacle which, I think is still going on.
Let me check…
…yes, they seem to be discussing Pokémon (whoever that is) and who has got the best arse: BarbarElla or Kate (Winslet). I told them it was Winslet (Kate) but they told me to fuck off.
Zoom says it’s the most visited meeting they’ve ever had.
The secret Zoom meeting for executives such as ME, Jane, The Head of Disastrous Projects and loads of other highly paid ass prods will take place tonight or early this morning at 23:00 UTC (NO actors or ass prods).
The most important things to get out of the way are:
- The amount of compensation to pay Amazon Studios for the damage caused by those ass prod electricians
- Richard bloody Branson – he wants $20 million to show we’re serious about sending BarbarElla and Ray into space (ffs, don’t tell them – they’ll go mental)
The meeting is at: https://sywwow.zoom.us/8356883098
Meeting ID: 739962094
Netflix has committed a further $300 million to the film allowing production to get underway. The sum is a help but I don’t think they realise everything has to start from scratch because so much footage was lost in the fire.
I sent Ms. Jane Fonda an email to show how keen I am to suck up to her:
Dear Ms. Jane Fonda
I’ve booked studio space at Amazon’s Manchester site because Pinewood is still not ready. My pal has an electrical firm that does stuff on the cheap so they’re up there preparing the space.
I contacted Richard Branson about shooting scenes in orbit and told him to keep his big gob shut in case loony-tunes finds out where we’re sending her.
I sent her an email:
Get your act together, get with the program and stop messing about. Everyone knows you burned down Pinewood and blamed the cat. The buck stops here. This film must be made, again. So, be a team player. There’s no me in team. Hold on, there is. Well it’s not about me its about I and there’s no I in individual because there’s no me in there either or a you but there’s a U and that’s not you because it’s I and I don’t take any nonsense from loons. I’m not some sort of ass prod because I’m an Ass. Prod. Ergo, get your shit together and shape up or buy a shirt.
I’ve shown her who’s boss although it’s you.
Your obedient servant
I wouldn’t dare send an email like that to BarbarElla – she’d kill me or worse. But Fonda will think I’m some fucker who knows what’s what.
All this executive stuff has made me want to go plop plop so I shall do that now
I have been informed that, on the latest publicity material produced by Netflix for Barbarella (The most Expensive Film Ever Made), I’m credited as an “Ass Prod”.
Google were bloody hopeless; no-one uses Bing and DuckDuckGo showed me a list of videos featuring ladies doing things with shovels.
In the end an email to the OED (Oxford English Dictionary) produced the definition:
Ass Prod, noun, an object used in anal sex by gays similar to a ‘dildo’ but worse; (insult), origin, Studio City, Hollywood, May 28, 2020
Example: “See that twat over there, he’s a right ass prod”
As soon as I learned all this, I felt a complete Ass Prod.
An email to Netflix soon revealed the person responsible for this slur was Ms. Jane Fonda.
What inspired insultery. What genius. This sort of thing is just the sort of thing I would do.
No-one other than me and Jane could change the English language like this. Its very like my word ‘loon’. And my rejuvenation of the jazz word ‘Gas’.
No wonder she’s the most powerful woman in the world. I think we’re going to get on great.
We’re going to be one hell of a team so, all you Ass Prods out there better shape up or shit your pants.
Evidently the most powerful woman in the world didn’t know who I was when she called.
Reproduced here is an email:
Dear Lord Sywwow,
I am horrified to learn of the racial abuse you have received by a senior member of our team.
I can understand why you “cried & cried & cried for a period of not less than three hours”: being called a “British Faggot” must have been so distressing to someone like you who claims to be so strong & ‘magnificent‘.
I have had the honour to speak to the individual concerned who proudly boasts the things you claim she said are true. She said to me; “He’s a British Fag, a Beatnik, a Loon” plus a lot more about what a jerk you are.
I have looked into the matter and feel there’s no need to involve the British Press, the LA Times or your website (sywwow.com) in this embarrassing and potentially costly incident.
I know you to be an artist and an industry Pro who would not wish to restrict creativity. I feel, if you were to come aboard Barbarella as an Associate Producer, you could do less damage than to date especially as you would be controlled by the greatest woman ever: Ms. JANE FONDA
Welcome to the Team
Ms. Diane Peteresen
Head of Netflix Disastrous Projects Division
Studio City, Hollywood
Anyone involved in high level international affairs lives in sheer terror of an early morning phone call from the most powerful woman in the known world: MS. JANE FONDA.
Early this morning I got a phone call:
“Don’t you dare interrupt me you British faggot. From now on you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewer will be ‘Sir.’
How dare you bring Hollywood’s name into disrepute by fucking up Barbarella. Everything that’s gone wrong is your fault and you’ve made BarbarElla look like a loon. Which she is.
What is your major malfunction?
I’m in charge now: There will be no more shenanigans from you – English prick.
Only Steers and Queers come from England.
I’m going plop plop. Before I stamp all over this phone let me threaten you with this: If a single word of this appears on your website (sywwow.com) I’ll tear you a new ass-hole. You little scumbag! I’ve got your name! I’ve got your ass!”
Oh dear, picking a fight with me: this is most inadvisable
Christmas with BarbarElla: The Perfect Summer Gift Available Now (sorry about the business in Europe with the planes and stuff)
I won’t fuck up any more marketing things. I’ve learned from my mistakes and will think before I act:
Use this coupon and get 1.34457%* off your copy of Christmas with BarbarElla: The Perfect Summer Gift Available Now
*If you buy 5 copies and the discount applies to only one of the copies (the sixth)
Firstly, it’s not my fault.
What happened was, someone – possibly me, bought some cheap string of Chinese origin. The main factor in all this was the wind, a specific gust at an inopportune moment to be precise.
As the head of marketing at Sywwow Records is on ‘gardening leave’ over that ‘tart-in-a-cupboard’ incident that The Sun won’t shut up about (or The Daily Mail), I took over the role because any wanker can do marketing.
The task was a photo shoot in London to promote the Summer re-release of ‘Christmas with BarbarElla’ – The Perfect Summer Gift.
What some idiot did – possibly me, was order 2,000 blow up BarbarElla dolls and filled them with helium with the intention of tying them to railings around the Palace of Westminster.
They all blew away. Actually, only 1,716 blew away, the rest got stuck on nearby buildings, high up on nearby buildings.
According to the Met Office and the RAF they are heading off over Europe which is good news because they’re nothing to do with the UK Government anymore: they’re the EU’s problem now.
If you find one of these dolls, please do not shag it, but inform me via the contact page so I can get it collected – at your expense.
Actually, come to think of it, if you’re a female lady you could have sex with it providing you send photographic evidence of what you get up to, you cheeky minx, to ME as the dolls are still the property of Sywwow Records.
Conversely, if you see BarbarElla in the street or a field or somewhere and are uncertain if she’s real or one of the dolls: stick a pin in her arse: if there is a rush of air and you start talking in a high pitched voice then it’s one of the dolls. I can’t rule out the same thing happening with the real BarbarElla but I’m thinking on my feet here although I’m sat down.
For Fuck’s Sake don’t tell BarbarElla about all this she’ll go fucking mental even though she is not a loon – according to her (and Ms Jane Fonda).
ATA #001-25052020 means Alert to Airmen Number 1 of May 25, 2020. It’s the first alert in ages, so the Civil Aviation Authority tell me. For safety reasons a number, if not all, flights have been diverted or cancelled. If you’re flying then you’re probably fucked but should check with your airline or look at the sky which is a lot smaller than it appears, as far as planes are concerned.
“Airmen”, yes, I thought that. But, it turns out, there are no Airwomen because they’re brains are too pretty, little and filled with air – which is ironic when you think about it
A bonkers loon whom recently featured in a highly informative article in The Sun whom, also it would appear, does not recycle her newspapers therefore jeopardising the entire planet, has managed the impossible and become even more of a bonkers loon. A super-loon as it were.
The bonkers super-loon has attacked a well-respected website defacing a lovely sketch by Banksy of, non-loon, BarbarElla .
Banksy went fucking spare: “Fuck off Sywwow. I know it was you that painted that six-foot cock on my wall”.
There’s no dealing with him when he’s in such foul a mood.
I was straight on the phone to Kate (Winslet). “Kate (Winslet)”, I said, sounding so sexy I’d fuck me if I wasn’t me. Though I am me.
“Sywwow (Lord)”, she said, sounding so sexy she was nearly as sexy as me; “That slag BarbarElla was slagging off my arse the cheeky cow”.
“Did you vandalise Banksy’s sketch of BarbarElla?”
What a lying tart (Kate).
I have thus restored the sketch and all now is as if this ghastly affair had never happened.
Renowned vandal and angry bastard Banksy has got a website Banksy.co.uk
I have to mention his website every time he appears on here because of an outstanding legal wrangle. Plus, he can’t prove I painted that cock on his wall: he’s leaping to conclusions based on cctv footage and the fact I bragged about it all over the place. Kate, yes you, Winslet – stay away from his fucking site or I’ll tell him you did the testicles in the cock-on-the-wall job we did as some sort of bollocks ‘artistic statement’ whist drunk on Absinthe and liquorice bark. And, your arse is perfect – we all know that
Look at this tosh in The Sun:
Where do they get their ‘facts’?
Look at this tosh in The Sun:
Where do they get their ‘facts’?
I once went up outer space with a tray of strawberries.
An those suckers loved them more than me.
A shortened version of this article recently appeared in The Hollywood Reporter
When I took the call, I had no idea it was the greatest director to ever work in film: Reed Carol.
“Sywwow”; he said, “It’s Reed Carol here, Wagner (Paula) has told me Cruise (Tom) signed you for my major motion picture “BarbarElla”. I can’t be bothered with minutiae so you’re in my movie. Got it?”
“Yes, Mr Carol. Thank you Mr Carol”; I said, to the great man. “I was rather hoping to play Marvin”.
“Marvin? The manager? He’s a sex god. No No No No that’s not the role for you. Cruise (Tom) is playing that anyway”.
“Might I enquire, Mr Carol, It is a speaking part?”
“Contractually it has to be. The script will be with you in 24 hours. Do not reveal a word to anyone”.
“Not a single word”, he emphasised for some unknown reason. He also said it in bold which I thought odd.
“Of course I won’t Mr Carol”.
There was a bit of a pause so I said; “How’s Wendy?” I shouldn’t have said that.
“You go anywhere near Wendy and I’ll break both your legs and then strangle you with them”.
I thought, this is not going well so I said; “How’s LydiE? I heard she painted you”. I shouldn’t have said that.
“What do you know about Lydie?”, he shouted.
“Fuck all”, I lied like a big lying person. Changing the subject, I said; “I must say, Katy Perry is a great choice for the BarbarElla role. She’s perfect”.
“I sacked her. Lady Gaga is the lead”.
“Inspired casting Mr Carol. Kate (Winslet) says you’re a twat. And BarbarElla says so. I told them you’re not a twat and you’re a maestro”.
“Are you in a toilet?”
“I might be”.
“You’d better not be going plop plop”.
“No, I wouldn’t dare” I fibbed “It’s just a number one”.
“Guess what Sywwow – I am going plop plop and it’s a big one. A fucking big one”.
He then ended the call.
Reed Carol – What a genius.
I have just had a lovely chat with the magnificent Reed Carol, the legendary maestro film director.
He is, by far, the best thing to happen in cinema since Stanley Kubrick.
Reed Carol is currently making the bio-pic “BarbarElla” which should redefine the entire genre he’s so fantastical.
Never away from his side or out of his sight is the beautiful perfection, Wendy – his wife. She will feature as LydiE. What inspired casting by the visionary, Reed Carol.
I will have an article on here about my phone call with the Picasso of film, Reed Carol, after I’ve flogged it to The Hollywood Reporter or those buffoons at The Sun Newspaper.
Reed Carol, what a wonderful man
As soon as I found out from my pal at The Hollywood Reporter, I was straight on to Kate (Winslet): “Reed Carol is the new Director of BarbarElla”, I blurted out.
“I love his work”, she replied.
“He’s sacked you. He says Katy Perry is better suited”.
“That Twat Reed Carol. Perry’s not even blonde”, said the gorgeous red-head.
“I know, it’s a travesty. He’s a twat. I was up for the Marvin role. I’ll never get it now. Carol’s hated me ever since that liaison I had with Wendy. I didn’t know she was married to him – I thought she was just a tart – I told him that when he found us in the shower”.
“Marvin? The manager? He’s a sex god”.
“I know. I would have been perfect for the role”.
“What’s all this BarbarElla has being saying about me?”
“I don’t know nothing about anything”, I lied like a big liar.
“It was on your site and the BBC”.
“I think it was a joke”.
“Well, I don’t think it’s funny. And now this”.
She started crying so I said my phone wasn’t working in the prescribed way as detailed in the user guide and ended the call.
I then rang BarbarElla; “Kate is near suicidal because of all the shit you’ve been saying”.
“Oh, I regret it. Every single word. She is perfect beyond words. She makes all the rest of us tarts look pedestrian”.
“Yeah, right”; I thought to myself in my head.
Who the fuck tipped them jerks off?
I got a cheque for £500 from the BBC. I’m going to buy some beer
Trust The Sun to come up with a load more bollocks about the sci-fi film Barbarella:
Every word of the above nonsense is a lie. Every single word.
I don’t know where they got that photo from, Pixabay probably. There was no fire. It was a flood.
Millions of pounds of damage my arse – 10 million at the most. Maybe 15.
The fireman and his grazed knee! What about my bruised leg and BarbarElla’s black eye?
And, she’s not in Paris she’s here with me. She’s not in tears either – she being sick in the bathroom from drinking far too much cheap plonk.
The so-called ‘spokeswoman”, Suzanne at Netflix, didn’t say it was “the worst thing to ever happen in the history of film making”. Oh, hold on, she did.
What happened was, BarbarElla and I had been drinking some wine I’d accidently bought in a shop whilst trying to get toilet roll.
We’d drank a load of it but weren’t drunk because that’s not lady-like. Anyway, I wanted a cigar and she said she wanted one too. So, we’re not stupid, we know smoking is not allowed on set so we went in this little room full of electrical stuff and switches. We were puffing away minding our own business when the smoke alarm went off.
Quickly thereafter the fire alarm went off. Understanding the need to evacuate the studio we finished our cigars, went back to her dressing room, finished the last of the wine and made to leave in an orderly fashion.
However, the lights all went out and the fire sprinklers went off and flooded everywhere. We managed to get out of the building but only after stumbling about a bit. During the course of which she ‘accidently’ kicked me giving me a bruise on my lovely leg. I, in turn, ‘accidently’, elbowed her in the eye. That’s why she’s got a black eye.
We legged it over a fence and got a taxi back to my pad in Belgravia so no-one would know we caused it all. They’ll never know it was us because we movie folk know how to keep secrets.
Anyway, if anyone’s to blame, it’s not me.
Look at this from The Sun:
Whoever leaked those photos is a complete twat.
Netflix will go mental. Whoever it was will…
[My Dearest Sywwow],
After what you said in your email I can’t wait for Cannes. If it’s off, there’s always the Hilton.
I’ve had a word with Ted, he’s very interested in the LydiE project – if nothing else it will annoy Bezos.
Thanks for the photo. Yes, you can. As a reward I’ve sent you some pictures from the set of Barbarella. I DO NOT expect them to appear in The Sun, Enquirer or on your bloody website.
I have managed to muddy the waters & calm everybody down by issuing a release claiming those photos were part of filming.
I’ve lost count how many times I’ve had to bail you and that idiot BarbarElla out during the shooting – not to mention you ruining a day’s work at Pinewood.
Why was she naked in a bloody phone box in the first place? I’m sure it was something to do with you.
Please, please, please stay away from the set and especially BarbarElla until we’ve finished making the damned film.
Oh yes. LydiE. I know all about what you pair are cooking up. I take it you’ll be at Cannes? If you are – you’ll get the thrashing of your life and NO you’re not going to spank me – not after what you did at the Hilton
Ps: You’d better not put what I’ve said on your bloody website you idiot
In response to news stories appearing in the British press and The National Enquirer, Netflix Productions wish to make clear our talent, BarbarElla, was engaged in shooting a scene from our forthcoming sci-fi extravaganza “Barbarella”.
The unauthorised photos were taken on set at Pinewood studios where the genre changing epic is currently in production.
Producer of the most expensive production Netflix has ever produced, Kathleen Kennedy (Amblin): “The scene will not now appear in the movie because those twats have ruined the surprise. I’m very annoyed”. (attribute quote).
Director of the outlandish Netflix UK production, Barbarella, Steven Spielberg: “She’s got great tits”. (non-attribute quote).
A full investigation as to the source of the photographs is currently under way. Security services at Pinewood Studios, England, believe they have identified the culprit. We are attempting to contact the individual concerned before releasing his name but, at present, he is unavailable because he is “going plop plop” (attribute quote).
Barbarella from Netflix / Amblin
Netflix Production, Los Angeles, March 17, 2020
However, it was an emergency.
I was sunbathing naked in the backyard and wanted to enter the house.
The door had blown shut and locked.
There was no way I could enter my villa.
From behind the bushes I checked if nobody was in the street.
The entire site was empty and I decided to take the chance and call a good friend in the phone booth who could save me from this plight.
Some SUN bastard must have stalked me and was probably in that one van just across the street.
Rectification will not come even though I demanded it.
For the time being I will go incognito on the street, hoping that no one will recognize me.
And I’m counting on a good friend to restore my honor.
I was watering my Begonias which, I can tell you, were in dire need of such attention, when the door bell rang. I knew it wasn’t Hermes because they never deliver anything to me. If you need to dispose of some incriminating evidence: send it to me using Hermes: it will never be seen again. So, I went to the door and a guy wearing motorbike leathers and a helmet handed me a package. I thought this odd as he was driving a van. He said something to me: fuck knows what.
I was expecting a washing machine so opened the package carefully because, for no reason whatsoever, they weigh a ton. Inside was a script: the script. The script for the bio-pic BarbarElla.
I needed to carefully read it so I could give a considered opinion. Ergo, I thumbed through it glancing at some words, of which there were loads, and went straight to the phone in the kitchen and called BarbarElla.
“Hello, it’s me here. Have you got the script?”
“Yes, it’s wonderful. I simply love how they’ve handled my early career. What do you think?”
“It’s great. Do you think I’ll play Marvin, your manager?”
“I don’t know. Marvin was a genius, extremely good looking, sexual dynamite…”
“That’s why I think I should play him. He’s just like me”.
At this point my mobile phone was ringing. It was the producer, Tom (Cruise).
I hung up on BarbarElla because Tom (Cruise) is the main man in all this.
“I’m going plop plop so I thought I’d call you about the script”. What the fuck has his lavatorial habits got to do with the matter in hand?
“What part have I got? You promised me a part because of all the things I’ve done regarding the film”.
“It’s the Director’s decision”.
“You’re the producer”.
“The director must decide”.
“It’s not that twat Reed Carol is it?”
“We could never get him”.
“He’s a twat”, I said because Reed Carol is a twat.
“What do you think about the script?”, said Tom (Cruise), sidestepping my query in my opinion.
“It’s wonderful. I simply love how you’ve handled her early career”.
He then said he had to go because Scorsese (Martin) was on the other line. Scorsese (Martin) would be okay. He made a Christmas video for me which was shit but he doesn’t know all the stuff I said about him on here so I’ll be okay with him.
Anyone will do, even Eastwood (Clint), providing it’s not Reed Carol.
I needed to go plop plop and call Kate (Winslet) but it transpired to be only a fart.
I then, for dramatic effect, went into the garden to call her. But, when I got somewhere photogenic (next to the staue of Falstaff I stole from the RSC who, incidentally, still owe me £170.23) it started to rain so I went into the lounge and stood next to my bust of Shakespeare and called her.
“I’m going plop plop”, is how she greeted me. Why did I need to know?
“Never mind that”, I said “Have you got the script?”
“No, not yet. What’s it like?”
“It’s wonderful. I simply love how they’ve handled her early career”.
“What about me? Do I get loads of screen time?”. How selfish.
“I want the role of Marvin. What about the Director? Who is it? It’s not that twat Reed Carol is it?”
“Oh, I doubt it. He’s big league. They could never get him. Wouldn’t it be divine if they did get him?”
“No. Reed Carol is a twat”.
I told her I had to go plop plop. It was all bollocks. I needed to ‘phone around to try and find out who the director is.
Playing Marvin is the break I’ve always needed.
I will get this leading role – providing the director is not Reed Carol.