The Harsh Truths Of Hollywood

The first time I saw an advert for Richard Curtis' new film I was incensed. Observe:

Note the man in the top left corner. For one glorious moment I thought it might be Rhys motherfucking Darby, perhaps the only person in the world that could have been inserted between Bret McKenzie and Jermaine Clement in Flight of the Conchords and manage to be the best thing in it.

Then I read the cast list on the ad, and was disgusted to learn it was probably just Kenneth motherfucking Branagh. "Hey, Richard motherfucking Curtis", I shouted to the heavens, "Do not attempt to make Kenneth motherfucking Branagh look like Rhys motherfucking Darby. It will not be tolerated!"

Of course, after further investigation I discovered to my joy that it is Rhys motherfucking Darby, and that Kenneth Branagh has not made the grade on this particular poster.

You know why? Because Kenneth motherfucking Branagh can take a motherfucking number, motherfuckers! Rhys motherfucking Darby is in the house!

To sum up: motherfucking.