THE CLOONEY BIN 5
I have an army of crazed fans who stalk me on Twitter. They regard me as a Christlike figure who they worship without question. That’s fine. I mean, I am pretty amazing but I keep getting these private messages asking me if I can send them some tear drops to resurrect their dead pets and many are convinced that my underarm sweat is the only known cure for cancer. I also get requests from women and bizarrely, a few men who want me to send them a vial of my seed so they can impregnate themselves. It’s all a bit much and I’m seriously considering closing my account. You’re a man of the world George, what should I do?
If I had a dollar for every letter I’ve received asking for a jar of my semen I’d be a billionaire. I’m afraid fluid requests just go with the territory and in my experience, I think it’s best to just send them what they want. This can be difficult of course I remember Julia Roberts was inundated with mail asking for a sample of breast milk after her pregnancy. She did her best to accommodate everyone but after a few months she had extremely sore nipples and her own child was suffering from malnourishment. These days I keep a guy on staff who does all that for me and although it’s not really my blood or my spit, the recipient is none the wiser. I mean there must be at least a 1000 women who think they have inseminated themselves with my sperm and that makes them happy. Little do they know the real father of their offspring is an illiterate former abattoir worker from Warsaw.
(Visited 21 times, 1 visits today)