Clive Owen

So, I said to him: xxxxxxxxxxxx, and I get, for the purposes of conversation: Nul point!

But I had another story up my sleeve: Clive. Owen!

So we got stoned, he was sitting down, we could have been silent , but I started…

So, C Owen.
1) he’s in the best film in 18 years (if not ever…)
2) he lives in Wrabness, half a mile from where I had the stroke…
3) on Thursday last, I think of him because – for the first time in three years – I’ve gone to the cinema of which he is patron to hear a New Orleans-style brass band…

4) THE SAME NIGHT, he gets in his car, in Wrabness, and drives to the Soho House – and bumps straight into L…

And she says: I know this screenwriter, went to Wrabness, the same age as you, had a major stroke, is just coming back 4 1/2 years on…
To which he says: f***ing unbelievable!

And T goes: Cool!

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I had a stroke on July 26th, 2013. I was a screenwriter. Don’t do that anymore. But have found another way to write.

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