Apparently there are others who wish to claim the dubious accolade of best international relations / celebrity gossip blogger
. The brother has asked me if Farrellblogger can top this. Of course we can. But we won't! Celebrity gossip is a currency to be hoarded and passed discreetly from hand to hand, not flung down on the counter for all to see. But I will tell an old story and provide a class of an apologia for our (much more famous) compatriot and namesake Colin Farrell
Before I was a lobbyist, I worked in the film industry in Ireland for 4 years. I worked for a documentary production company,Hummingbird Productions,
my first 2 years out of college, then went freelance and got a union ticket and my first job on a drama. I was a production trainee on a fairly depressing 4-part drama called Falling for a Dancer made for the BBC. (BBC only seemed willing to fund 1950's dramas, in picturesque rural settings featuring wife-beating, overbearing priests, and wayward but good-hearted Irish cailini.) It was a 5 month location job in the out and out most beautiful part of Ireland (and that's saying something), the Beara Peninsula
of West Cork. And despite the 14 hour days and 6 day weeks, and the constant fear I was going to be fired, it was one of the best summers I've ever had.
One day, quite early on in the shoot, the production manager walked a new actor into the production office, had him say a blanket 'hello' to us all and then marched him down to see the producer. 15 minutes later I was told to drive the guy to his accommodation, but since I wasn't insured to drive cast members in my own car, the production manager threw me the keys of his Lexus. The actor and I walked out to the car without a word between us, I unlocked it and got into the driver's seat, he got in his side, I revved her up, and we both burst out laughing with a big 'yes!'. Then we went on the mitch, driving that car like a bastard along the narrow roads with grass down the middle around Castletownbere, and stopping in the village haberdashery where Colin bought a present for the 5 year old daughter of the house he was staying in. Great fun and a real sweetheart.
A good few weeks into the shoot, we had a Saturday off, and went for an afternoon pint in McCarthy's
. A guy called Sinbad spotted us perched on the barstools and came in. Sinbad lived locally, but wasn't from Castletown, and he was called Sinbad because he wore a pirate's head scarf. (he disappeared towards the end of the summer and about a year later I saw him in the background on a news bulletin - but that's another story.) Well, Sinbad fancied Colin like anything, and Colin was cool about it, and so the conversation rolled along. It was really warm and Sinbad was wearing a pair of white shorts. He was a pretty ample guy. My eyes were drawn down to Sinbad's crotch and Colin followed them. There was a pause. I blushed and took a scoop of my pint. Then Colin burst out "Jaysus Sinbad, you've the biggest fucking langer I've ever seen in my life!" and we all roared laughing and life went on again.
And on to the apologia. A lot is made of Colin's womanising ways. (Jesus, Britney?!). But the point that doesn't come across is how generous, funny and sweet the guy is. I don't know if he's ever met a woman he didn't see something special in, and something that he really liked. That's at least part of his charm - charisma is directed outward not inward, and lavished on one and all. You could be just walking down the road with Colin (and not 'with' Colin might I add) and he would honestly make you feel like the only girl in the world. He's got many talents and gifts, but that has to be one of the nicest.
Colin was a lovely friend, but we lost touch when I moved to London a couple of years ago. He's been having a pretty wild ride in the meantime. I'm hoping it's a soft landing.
Well Henry, I've kept up my end. Now you'd better look after the whole 'international relations' side of things.
Update (Henry) - Of course, we're just insignificant microbes
so I suspect that Dan isn't quaking in his boots just yet. But insignificant microbes with ambitions - maybe, just maybe, one day we'll be Lowly Worms, or Cheerful Creepy-Crawlies. Whatever.