Haha, welcome to Kick Christian Bale While He’s Down Week, here on the internets. Now the Mae Shi have jumped on the bandwagon with a snazzy little number celebrating the great artist’s work on the set of the Oscar cert, Terminator 4.
I know it’s a bit daft, I know it is now my turn to grow up and get over it, but this maelstrom of silliness in the wake of Bale’s uber-tantrum is genuinely quite funny. Do you think he’s sitting at home laughing, holding his head in his hands or…
…throwing crisps about the place and swearing angrily at the whole world?
And, alluding back to this comment about when I oh-so-much less significantly lost it and swore long and loud at someone for really not very much at all, just imagine having your most childish, least gracious moment made into the subject of a pop song. At that, I hope, he would at least break into a snigger.
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Here is a rather comical mp3 of Christian Bale going nuts at the Director of Photography on the set of the new Terminator film sometime last year. After getting over the amusement of the rant the slow creeping sensation of wanting to kick him in right in his clearly excessively tight scrotum began to overwhelm me.
What a fucking licker of monkey nuts that man seems. Particularly the bits about being ‘professional’. I admit that I am the last person to talk about professionalism, given I spend three quarters of my working day cunting about on the internetz like a spastic, but I am pretty certain that I have never been in a professional situation that included an over-paid prima-donna squealing at some junior colleague like a pre-menstrual hippy who has just discovered that her organic tampons might not actually be made of one hundred percent free range llama wool.
The bit where he gets threatening is even more pathetic. I have been around a lot of actors both at school and when visiting my brother at drama school and I guarantee you not one of those attention-starved, mincing nancy-boys could even come close to ‘kicking someone’s ass’. At best you might get a girly little slap, a high-pitched squawk and a hasty retreat, which I think even an unusually tired octogenarian with bones like balsa wood might well be able to withstand with little more than a contemptuous snigger.
This is the worst thing about celebrity culture at the moment. You can be certain that absolutely everyone in that room was thinking ‘Okay, we get it, sir is displeased. Now can you please just grow the fuck up and get on with the job. Preferably within the next half an hour, you hysterical ninny.’ and yet no-one can say it. Why? Because Mr. Bale occasionally goes on the telly and pretends to be other people for a bit. Ooo, what an important person that must make him.
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