Great to hear my old pal Hugh Grant give the tabloid red tops a hammering. The lower end of the UK press has gone a bit crazy and it needed a shining knight like Hugh to come and slay the dragons.
A lot of people are saying that this campaign of his makes up for Did You Hear About The Morgans? But I'm not so sure. He's still got a way to go before we forget that stinker. I wrote to him after going to see it on a date and demanded my money back. I was only halfkidding, but he didn't get back to me, which is a shame because we used to be close back in the day. I have great memories of driving around Knightsbridge in a Bentley asking every pretty chick we saw to show us their panties for £50.
Down in the country on another crazy weekend, I persuaded three girls to strip naked and lie down on a lawn. Hugh and I then went to the other side of the house and threw eggs over the thatched roof to see if it was true that they wouldn't break on impact. I actually can't remember what the purpose of the naked girls was, but one was called Tisha and became particularly excitable in the orchard a little later on in the evening.
Thinking about all the good times, I decided to give Hugh a call on the off chance that he might be up for a drink. He answered straight away but got really paranoid when I suggested we should go paint the town red. "How do I know you're not wearing a wire?" he screamed before hanging up. Chill, dude. Cooper Out.
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