Right, first of all, let me get this straight – I’m not what you’d call a fan of the French. Before you get all pissy, that doesn’t include French Canadians. I love me some French Canadians, because they’re a version of Canadians, and Canadians are the balls.
But something went wrong somewhere along the way. Canada created Justin Bieber; a collective shudder was felt round the world, as we wondered how such a thing could have happened. For some reason, France stepped up to the plate, “We ‘ave got zis, non?” and reminded the world that this guy exists:
Vincent Cassel, awww get it. And before you start to disagree, just shut up for a minute ‘cos you’re wrong. Aside from the mad acting skills (especially when it’s not in his native language), Cassel is worth the hass…el. Ahem. Look, he’s about 7 feet tall, with eyes that could cut through you like a raggedy toenail through tights, and best of all he looks like he’s never given a good god damn about anything in his entire life apart from sex and cigarettes – he is French, after all. So laid back, it’s unreal. In Trance, when he casually answers the door buck-ass naked, I knew I’d never see the world in the same light ever again. And then to make matters worse, this picture was presented to the world.
I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS, CASSEL.