Hugh Grant, who perfected the stutter in practically every damn film he ever made managed to tell the Leveson Inquiry today that it’s perfectly fine to hate him. If he’s comfortable with that then so am I.
Inside the Royal Courts of Justice the air was thick with the crazy mist of an unhappy little man who no longer wishes to smell like a nutsack. Yes, as Hugh Grant stumbled through his life story it reminded me of a man trying to swallow an angry live salmon yet believe it or not, nobody ran out of the inquiry screaming for their Jesus, because Hugh actually gave them everything they needed.
What I’m trying to say is that this screwed up foo gave the whore d’oeuvre of a performance worthy of an oscar nomination for best supporting actor in a comedy role. When Grant described most the paparazzi as coming from the criminal classes and claimed he’s been the victim of the tabloid’s ‘golden showers’ for 17 years I laughed until my anus fell off.
Yesterday it was Hugh’s turn to lick, munch and bite on the media’s genitals for as long as the inquiry would allow him his indulgence. Much of his overdue sexual gratification came by stuttering through unsubstantiated accusations levied at The Daily Mail whom he accused of discovering that he had become a father after they’d bribed a member of staff at the Portland Clinic.
However, Robert Jay QC, barrister for the inquiry said, ‘It is an incontrovertible fact that they didn’t publish the story.’ Grant was forced to concede that the paper did not publish the story at the time and only did so when the news broke in the US of A several weeks later.
Last night Associated Newspapers issued statements :
I’m sorry but for me at least Hugh Grant’s credibility is shrinking faster than the boner he had in Divine Brown’s mouth when the police arrested him.