Screw you, Hugh
Dear Hugh Jackman,
Ok, I get it… you’re an outrageously talented, actor, singer and dancer, Hollywood, Broadway and TV über-star. You’re an incredibly devoted husband to Deborra-Lee and loving father to Oscar and Ava.
You’re a generous philanthropist — supporting and raising awareness of numerous charities and community projects.
You’ve been voted the “Sexiest Man Alive”.
Your mantelpiece is groaning under the weight of awards including an Emmy and two Tony awards, as well as Theatre World, Broadway Audience, New York International Independent Film & Video Festival, Australian Film Institute, Film Critics Circle of Australia, People’s Choice, Teen Choice and Scream awards and now a Golden Globe. You might be adding to the collection with an Oscar.
You’ve hosted the Oscars and Tony Awards to critical acclaim.
You’ve played (in no particular order) characters as diverse as Wolverine, Jean Valjean, The Easter Bunny, Van Helsing, Curly, The Drover, Peter Allen and even a bloody penguin — and that’s just off the top of my head.
You love footy, play the piano, guitar, violin and practice yoga.
You’re the perennial nice guy, that dazzling personality and laconic Australian humour shining through in every interview and appearance. Everyone loves you, there are no skeletons in your closet, you don’t try to run over paparazzi or throw phones at hotel staff.
I hope you realise just how much you make all us other Aussie blokes feel totally worthless and inadequate. Congratulations on the Golden Globe, you bastard.
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