Picture the scene: you’re chilling out in stylish Rio De Janeiro, maybe even sipping a cocktail on the beach and soaking up the afternoon sun when you realise that there’s something wrong. Something dreadfully wrong. Where are the promotional materials about giant transforming robots? Where is the Sexiest Woman in the World Rosie Huntington-Whiteley?
Then you relax back into your deckchair, because look, just over there, it’s Sexiest Woman in the World Rosie Huntington-Whiteley on a photocall for Transformers 3: Dark of the Moon. Everything’s back to normal.
There weren't any promotional materials in shot, so you'll just have to take our word for it
You go say hello to Rosie - she’s keen to talk, so you while away the hours as the sun slips lazily over the horizon and the pair of you meander down the Copacabana beach.
You chat about lots of things – her legs, whether her terrifying boyfriend Jason Statham is about to burst out of the sand and gut you like a fish, why she didn’t choose a name that was less arduous to type – but mainly, it’s all about Transformers 3 for her. You let her go on for a while, and accept the pamphlets and free t-shirt that she basically forces you to take, even though it won’t fit.
"So you’ll go see it, then? You’ll go see the movie?"
You smile at her. "Of course I’ll go see Transformers 3: Dark of the Moon, even if it means putting up with Shia LeBeouf trying to act and Michael Bay’s directing style."
"Michael Bay’s directing style?" she questions sweetly, her finger tracing gently down your cheek.
"Yes," you reply. "It’s like he’s flashing a torch in my face and shouting ‘BANG! BOOM! RATATAT!’ over and over until I just give up. The man should be banned from making films or at the very least tied to a chair and made to sit through a Ken Loach marathon. But for you, Rosie, anything."
Not that you mind about the lack of promotional materials in shot, presumably
She smiles, and leans in to kiss you when her eyes widen in fear as she senses movement from behind you.
"No! It was a PR stunt! Don’t kill another one!" she shouts, but it’s too late, and Jason Statham bursts from the sand and guts you like a fish.
"You keep your filthy hands off my bird,” he spits, as life leaves you in a gushing torrent washing over your shaking knees. Rosie rolls her eyes, mumbles an apology and leaves.
Moral of the story – don’t try to kiss Rosie Huntington-Whiteley. Ever. Jason Statham will straight up murder you. FACT.