Dear Mr. Gervais, I understand you turned down a chance to work in Woody Allen's next movie, saying "Woody Allen isn't Woody Allen anymore." Hey, you'll get no argument here. Woody Allen hasn't had a good movie since 1994 --- a great one since 1985. On the other hand, shut the fuck up. This is still Woody Allen. Y'know, Bananas, Take The Money And Run, Sleeper, Annie Hall, Manhattan, Purple Rose of Cairo. Does he really have to do another thing? And I'm sorry, am I missing something? Aren't you the same guy who agreed to appear in Night at the Museum? Based on that, should some up and coming comic ignore the genius and hilarity of your work on The Office and Extras? Oh, yes, Ricky just isn't Ricky anymore. There's no doubt that something has gone very wrong with Mr. Allen. And there's no reason you should suffer through his latest Brit-fetish script, but, come on, you're English. How about a little tight-lipped discretion? Unless you were making a joke? Y'know, one of those cringe-comedy things you excel at? Because, you're right, it is almost laughably uncomfortable that a guy who's generated two excellent sitcoms would feel the need to shit on a 70-year-old comedy legend who's written books, plays, stand-up, and five of the greatest movie comedies in the history of cinema. Good one, Ricky. You still got it.
Most rich kids just want to be pop stars.
How did these hyper-specific tropes spread so quickly?
The Hollywood rumor mill has been playing games with celebrity deaths for at least a century.