Mhairi McFarlane has bangs like a mofo and you can glean more of her awesomeness on Twitter.
It’s confident indeed to say the Talking The Most Marvellous Shit 2012 trophy has been taken already, but by jove, it’s January – and I think Mark Wahlberg might have done it. I didn’t mean to become Sarah’s sometime-correspondent on thespian hubris, but they say write what you know and I know I can’t get over how thrillingly mental this is: he’s claimed that he would’ve landed hijacked planes safely on 9/11. Continue reading
Mhairi McFarlane is a kirby-grip strewing angel of vengeance and you should follow her on Twitter if you’ve got any smarts at all.
I am so sick of reading this interview. You read it all the time, constantly, year in, year out, in every glossy magazine and Sunday supplement. It’s founded on the twin principles that A) people who act are the most fascinating beings on the planet, and B) that we, the readers are totally credulous, awed plebians. The dumbstruck interviewer acts only as a conduit to divinity, drinking in their shuddering magnificence and recording their sub-adolescent witterings as if it’s brainy gold. We’re now at the stage where an actor or actress would have to take a shit on the reporter’s notebook to get a less-than-howlingly-sycophantic write-up. (Or maybe not. HE’S WHERE IT’S SCAT!) I’m convinced by now there’s a template. It goes like this.