Can you imagine having dinner sitting next to Rosie Huntington-Whiteley? Sounds great, doesn’t it? Your imagination is probably right now skipping gleefully away into a distant meadow containing visions of you and the Rose-meister tucking into fish ‘n’ chips on a Wednesday evening watching The Apprentice. You turn to her to say, “Pass the vinegar, love” and she’s already holding it out for you, having preempted your request because she knows you so well. Now THAT’S love. You can forget your expensive gifts and holidays; we’re all about the vinegar.
"Shit, I had Edna in the Victoria's Secret Apprentice sweepstake"
Or maybe you’ve gone out for dinner together – nowhere too flashy, she doesn’t like those poncey places where you have to jab at the menu like a desperate mute when ordering because you’ve got no hope of pronouncing it correctly and you can’t face further scorn from the waiter after the whole drinking from the fingerbowl incident – just somewhere solid and homely. “This is great,” you’re thinking. “Just me and the Huntster, out for some lovely grub, afterwards we’ll go home and fall asleep on the sofa and she’ll probably have one of those dreams she always has when she’s had cheesecake, with the purple dragons singing B*Witched’s entire back catalogue – bliss.”
But then your perfect vision will be shattered, unforgivingly, like a Lord’s window in the face of an angry bat-wielding Matt Prior, by a beautiful sight of leggy wonderment. A sight like this:
"Of course I want cheese on the garlic bread. What am I, a fucking IDIOT?"
You probably think this is still totally fine. You might even be thinking that, if anything, this will only add to your enjoyment of your meal.
Well you're wrong.
You try eating when you've got Rosie Huntington-Whiteley and Rosie Huntington-Whiteley's legs sitting next to you. Yep, everytime you raise your fork towards your mouth, your jaw drops open, your hand collapses onto the table and you start mumbling uncontrollably about "the most beautiful thing you've ever seen" and, more confusingly, "Sarson's".
The biggest victim, of course, is Jason Statham. That poor guy must be bloody starving. We're surprised he's survived this long. He must wolf down the occasional snack when Rosie's not looking, before she comes in all "Ooh, can I have a bit of that? What is it?" and her legs are all "Unlucky, Statham, you've got no chance now".
Poor Jason Statham. Going out with Sexiest Woman in the World Rosie Huntington-Whiteley must be a complete nightmare. We feel your pain, brother.
"Say you will, say you won't, say you'll do what I don't..."