Dear Class of "90"
"A circular letter from Cooper Brown!! He must be in jail." No such luck, I'm afraid. While you losers have been scurrying around trying to work out why on earth you've been put on this planet, the Coopster has been getting on with making his mark. Remember when you assholes voted me "least likely to succeed"? Well, you communist mofos can shove that right up your unwashed sphincters. Cooper has hit the big time, and in Limeyland, no less!
If you remember the last time most of us met up, it was the week before the Rose Bowl at Jim Warzenski's funeral. I'd like to clear up any ugly speculation that I had anything to do with his demise. I proudly admit that we never got on and that we were both staying at the Marmont the night of his death. We were, however, not in the same party.
I was at a private Paramount function that he would never have been allowed into even if he had been invited, which he wasn't. We actually saw him fall past the window of our suite, but assumed that someone from the hotel would be dealing with stuff like that. I remember joking that it looked like it was true that Jim Belushi was back. Seriously, though, if I read any more crap about this incident in the newsletter, then I will take great pleasure in suing your asses off. I can afford it!!
Anyway, when I coincidentally left Paramount a couple of weeks later, I decided to make a clean break from all that West Coast shit and moved to London, England with this chick I met at a Minnie Driver beach party. That chick is now my soon-to-be wife Victoria, and she's only a frickin' aristocrat!! Not only that, but she's expecting the Cooper child. Mini Cooper could be the next King of England if Prince Philip assassinates any more of his relatives. Looks like it might be you who's a frickin' gay, Colin Johnston!! I haven't heard any news about you expecting a child anytime soon. I wonder why?
"What is the Coopster doing in Limeyland?" I hear you cry. Only working as a top executive for the UK Film Board's development fund. Oh, and I'm a bit of a celebrity as I write a weekly column for the biggest newspaper in the UK - The Independent. Sir Bono, the guy from U2, edited it this year and his assistant said that my column was Bono's favourite thing in the whole paper!! He and I are going to hang out next year as I've sent the assistant an e-mail asking him to ask Sir Bono out to dinner with Victoria, my aristocratic fiancée. He'll get back to me about where and when very soon. I'll send you pictures.
The whole year has been crazy. I've packed more weirdness into it than the whole rest of my life. Tony Blair, the Prime Minister, is really unpopular over here and he's about to get shifted. There's then going to be a Mexican stand-off between a guy called Gordon Brown from Blair's party and Dave Cameron from Maggie Thatcher's party. Brown can't win because he doesn't smile and is from Scotland and people suspect that he might be a secret gay. I know Dave Cameron really well, as I'm on one of his advisory committees and have been to his house for dinner. Can you believe it? Cooper is on first-name terms with the next British Prime Minister.
And that's not all. Remember the old BMW I used to cruise around in? Not any more. Try a Maserati Quattroporte! (There aren't many around in the States, but look it up on www.maseratiquattro porte.com.) Nice, huh?! It's a real chick moistener, and I've got one.
I've always longed to write a round-up letter like this. A kind of international SCREW YOU. Since this year has been so amazing for me, it seemed the perfect time to let you all know about just how well I'm doing. It's curious, but apart from the odd newsletter, I haven't heard a peep out of any of you guys. Let's hope nothing terrible has happened in your everyday, humdrum lives.
Although I'd have never guessed that I'd end up over here, I don't really miss anything about back home. The weather here is pretty shitty, but it means that everyone drinks and socialises like it's their last night on earth. London is a seriously happening city right now and I'm bang in the middle of the madness. Things you probably don't know about the place: there are more than two TV channels, but you can't watch the thing for chefs. Have you heard of Gordon Ramsay? He does a show called Hell's Kitchen over there. He's my new best buddy.
I was interviewing him for a TV show I'm doing about London (I'm going to be a TV star, it's shit easy over here) and he and I really hit it off. He drives a Ferrari and we went for a burnout at this private racetrack where celebrities go to drive real fast. We spent a whole half-hour hanging out for the filming, then he told me he'd put me on the list for his New Year's Eve party. He knows Ross Kemp from EastEnders. Do you guys watch EastEnders on BBC America? It's a hoot. No one actually lives like that. It's supposed to be about cockneys, who are very violent, criminal people, but it's really for middle-class people to laugh at. My life's nothing like that.
I've got to go, famous people to see, top parties to attend, you know how it is... Oh no, I forgot, you have no idea. If any of you are ever over in London, then don't bother to look me up. I'll be too busy to see you. Is anyone starting to regret that they weren't nicer to me at Berkeley? Thought so.
Happy Fucking New Year.
Cooper Out (that's my tag-phrase).