Considering the first course is probably not going to blow their minds (Big Soup was on a 3for2 in Tesco), I cannot consider inviting anyone who might turn their nose up at my shit venue and entertainment. I should probably invite someone stately, maybe an Anthony Hopkins or Helen Mirren, to keep the whole thing at a certain level. But, to be frank, the place is a shithole and I've heard Hopkins can become a belligerent bastard when there's too much Chianti flying around, so they're a no-go.
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| It's PARTY TIME |
Eventually, just to get the ball rolling, I invite Mila Kunis. She's been on at me for aaaaaages to come round and I've been like 'I'm like, busy" and she's been like "But I wanna like, see you", so in the end this morning I just called her and was like "ok you can come to my dinner party". Like. She is hot but that isn't why she's invited. It's for other reasons. That I currently can't recall. Plus, she was practically married to Macauley Culkin for a while so I should at least have an outside chance.
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| Home Alone 6 was a bit 'off message' |
So, three more. I need a wing man, someone with a bit of wit, someone who can laugh us to the brink of enjoyment. Owen Wilson wanted to come, but I've heard he's still got something of a coke problem and I can't deal with that shit when I've got cheese and pineapple sticks to construct. I look through my contacts. Simon Pegg? Hmmm, funny, but since he hit the big-time he says 'awesome' a lot and plus he refuses to get the 26 bus here after dark. So I settle on Vince Vaughn, I know he's not hilarious, but he always brings plenty of booze and we can rib him about how he 'used to be quite famous. And thinner'.
| Shirt and tie would have been sufficient |
Now I'm halfway there, need to add some gravitas to this night, someone with a bit of life experience, but who also won't mind playing spin the bottle with some empty Lambrini. Russell Crowe is in town, but he would definitely try and nail Kunis (probably in my room), so that's out of the question. I can't risk inviting De Niro or Pacino as things would inevitably get a bit 'shouty', so I decide to invite Ian McKellen.
That's right, fucking Gandalf is coming for dinner. Partly because he will command respect and add a bit of high-brow conversation that will leave Vaughn struggling. But mostly because he's gay and so will in no way try to nail Mila.
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| Leave some room for the cheeseboard Vince |
Now there's only one more seat to fill, and I'm aware of the need to redress the male/female balance here, and I need to aim high if McKellen isn't going to just down the free punch and fuck off to Wetherspoons when it's gone. Michelle Pfeiffer would always be welcome, but is far too classy to walk up Hackney Road without getting hassle so I strike her off the list. Plus I've heard she doesn't like Vienetta so we would probably clash over dessert. I briefly consider offering the place to Jodie Foster, but she seems very serious and would be unlikely to appreciate the moment after dinner when I ask everyone to stick an After Eight on their forehead and try to get in their mouths without touching it.
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| NOT INVITED! GUTTED! |
So, with time running out, and a severe lack of Hollywood A-list actresses in the vicinity of E2, I compromise. Sandra Bullock said she'd be up for it but I think she nicked an ashtray last time she came over so I'm not letting her back in until that situation is resolved. So Meryl Streep gets the nod, her and McKellen will get on like a house on fire I reckon, and she can make jokes that will go way over Vince Vaughn's head to keep us all entertained.
So there we have it, Vaughn, Kunis, McKellen, Streep, and me. 24 WKD's in the fridge, Um Bungo vodka jellies setting nicely, and 2 packs of Iceland's premium party snack selections in the oven.
No. You can't come. *
* Epilogue: The night didn't go well. Vince brought Owen Wilson along, Wilson was a bit depressed and so they sat in my room mostly drinking Famous Grouse and playing on my old mega-drive. It also turns out McKellen's whole 'gay thing' is basically a ruse to sleep with women. He had Kunis in the spare room in between the starter and main course. Streep was basically just concerned how I'd got her number. And took home most of the wine she'd brought with her. Rude bitch.
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