I’m still vibrating for David Tennant and it’s reminded me of a post I wrote called Shoot, Shag or Marry. Also, I am having a last hurrah holiday at my parents with the Sprogs before I go back to work (more about that after the press release … don’t you love a bit of suspense?). Oh, and my parents don’t have wi-fi. Let me repeat that: They. Don’t. Have. Wi-fi. It’s completely stone age up here. So blogging is a chore and I’m relying on a bit of back material to get me through. Here goes …
The lovely Angela Mollard wrote a column in The Sunday Telegraph magazine yesterday about a game called “Shoot, shag or marry” that she played on a mountain in Nepal. Everyone had to “nominate a celebrity we’d, you know, do it with if we were single or handed a day pass”. She chose Clive Owen.
I thought “oooooh, now there’s a fun idea” and immediately started pondering potential shags. But I had all these questions about the game. Like do you ”shoot” the person because they’re a dickhead who deserves a slap around the head? You know, like Tony Abbott? Or do you “shoot” them because they shag around and should be stopped? Like Ashton Kutcher or Gerard Butler? Or is it simply because they don’t turn you on, like Tommy Lee Jones.
Will the “shag” person make fun of your podgy belly or service you grudgingly because they’ve been forced to do it by the invisible “Shoot, shag or marry” rule enforcers? Or are they really into it and think you’re the hottest thing they’ve ever seen? (Even if you’re middle-aged and wrinkly and they usually shag women who look like Scarlett Johanssen.) (Husband finds my concerns amusing, as he reckons men wouldn’t worry about such things, they just think, “Of course Scarlett Johanssen would want to be shagged by me.”)
I know I shouldn’t fret about the physical act because it’s just a game … but I’m an over-thinker. So it’s there, in my head, and I can’t get it out again. And if they’re going to make fun of my squishy belly I’d rather not play. Or I’ll choose someone kinder, like that nice Irish fellow in Bridesmaids.
OK, I’m going to pretend they’re really into me. My “shag” would be … hang on … are we talking the actual celebrity or the character they’ve played in something? Because that makes a difference too. I reckon most male celebs would be absolute arses, so I don’t think sex with them would be much fun. Fictional characters are much easier. It’d be a battle between the 11th Doctor Who, Thor, or a duel at dawn between Mr Knightley in Emma and Mr Darcy in Pride & Prejudice for my hand.
Actual celebrities …. hmmmmm … David Duchovny gets me hot and bothered, but I hate to think where he’s been … Nathan Fillion has these gorgeous eyes and hips, but I’m worried about his sense of humour after he refused to send a photo of himself with twine to The Bloggess … Johnny Depp is divinely attractive, but weird and possibly smelly … and David Tennant is lovely, but kinda weedy and foppish. So I’m going with Jake Gyllenhaal (without facial hair or gay rumours and blanking out that he dated Taylor Swift). Jake Gyllenhaal is hawt and he seems all brooding and still-waters-run-deep but nice (well, apart from the dreadful way he dumped Taylor Swift).
Oooops, forgot the “shoot” and “marry” ones … got too caught up in the shagging. If “shoot” means they annoy the crap out of me and should retire from the spotlight immediately – I don’t wish anyone dead – then I’d remove Tony Abbott and Kyle Sandilands. Ahhhhh, that feels better.
As for “marry”. I don’t want to marry a celeb, they’re all farked in the head. I’m going to stick with the devil I know: Husband. He’s a cranky old bastard, so if I had to nominate someone different for “marry” it would be a less cranky version of him. Although Mr Knightley would be pretty swoony …
OVER TO YOU: Tell me your “shoot”, “shag” and “marry” …
PS Follow Angela Mollard on twitter at www.twitter.com/angelamollard