If we told you Kelly Brook was in Clapham yesterday, you'd probably reply with something along the lines of “I love Clapham.” Though we're not very good at reading people, so we may be some way off the mark. “What the bloody hell was she doing there?” is a question not very likely to be posed, but since it’s relevant to our thread, and we wouldn’t possibly know how to answer the other statement, we’ll stick with that one.
Kelly was in the aforementioned Clapham to surprise cinema-goers at the Clapham Picture House. There they were, the economically idle, minding their own business, watching a daytime movie in all their decadent, indolent glory, and without warning, Kelly bursts in, sporting a rather kinky usherette’s uniform and begins dispensing bottles of Carlsberg. The audacity of the woman is astounding. One of the punters, believing it to be a police ambush, legged it out the emergency exit, yelling “the puppies only got what they deserved.” Kelly, ever the consummate professional, continued despite the outburst, looking every centimetre a 1950s dispenser of confectionery. Except this was booze she was doling out. It was a promotion, remember?
It’s an odd little media stunt in an even odder part of London, but we won’t question things we’ll never understand. The only thing we can think of is that she must actually be an undercover agent of some sort, using this public distraction as a decoy to deflect attention away from her investigations into Iran’s uranium enrichment program. What else could it possibly be? Sorry, we didn’t realise it had got this late. We’re meeting a psychiatrist in half an hour. He’s our doubles partner.