In what is perhaps the most amazing news article ever written, The Sunday Mirror describes in exquisite detail the one night affair betwixt the delicious Jude Law and his children’s nanny, Daisy Wright. (Warning, if you are a young, gay male, the Mirror article may not be “work safe,” especially if you must leave your desk within 10 minutes of reading it.)
The best part of the article is that it mostly consists of actual excerpts from Daisy’s sophomoric dairy, which give a play-by-play of the events leading up to the encounter, and the deed itself. These excerpts, interestingly, sound astonishingly similar to those in my own diary which recall my (hypothesized and simulated) sexual encounter with Jude Law, right down to the detail of sharing pizza and wine with Robert Plant. I wouldn’t snog Jude any other way.
We here at The Club believe that the moral of the story is that even if you are some ho-dunk nanny with fucked up teeth and a tragic overbite (we can only imagine), you, too, have a shot at having sloppy post-night-sex-morning-sex with God himself. And, apparently, if you get him drunk enough, he may even forget about the rubber, opening the door for all sorts of prenatal-related blackmail games. I mean, the cad did cheat on confirmed hotty Sienna Miller with an undoubtedly dog-faced, Cockney kid-wrangler. This should not come without consequence.
That is, of course, only if our initial hunch is disproved: that “Daisy Wright” is just a clever pseudonym for “Vin Diesel.” I mean, let’s face it, a name like Daisy Wright sounds as made up as name like, say, Alice Ayers. And if there ever were a man more obviously into anal than Jude, my colleague Rob would like to meet him.
Addendum: Having met Robert Plant in person at a former job, I am now officially one degree away from Jude. Which in gay-degrees is practically the same thing as second base.
As a young, hetero female, that article was not “work safe” and I think I am going to leave my desk right now.