I’ve never been a big fan of Jude Law.
Ok, that’s an understatement. I think the guy looks shiftier than a group of schoolkids in a newsagent. I wouldn’t trust him with my dry-cleaning, let alone my achy breaky heart. I can imagine that a guy with a face like his likes to step on kittens when nobody can see or wouldn’t blink twice before, say, getting to know his nanny (in the biblical sense) behind his wife’s back…
I could go on. Or let someone else.
Let’s just say that I was hardly surprised when I heard that apart from supposedly trying to beat Leonardo Di Caprio in the race to win Cameron Diaz’s heart, Jude Law has been busying himself beating the paparazzi too – a girl pap at that (is that a paparazza?). Sure, she may have deserved it a little but an eye for an eye, Jude. If the woman is flashing her camera in your face then shine a torch in hers. Or something.
On to another type of basterd, the inglorious kind. Quentin Tarantino arrived in London yesterday for the London premiere of his war drama Inglorious Basterds. Turn out was good and the rain stayed away.
The movie has got mixed reviews so far, but then you either are a fan of Quentin’s or you’re not.
Are you?
