In a bizarre kind of celebrity precog, I rather topically picked Tom Cruise as Columbo Villain for this week. This isn’t quite as opportunistic as it seems as this was written prior to me seeing the infamous acceptance speech that is quite frankly both funnier and scarier than anything I could write.
Tom leapt into public life, quite literally, in his underpants in 1983 in Risky Business he followed this up with the likes of Legend, Top Gun, Born on the Fourth of July, Interview with a Vampire, Mission Impossible, the list goes on. He was the embodiment of the American Dream: a successful film actor, movie producer and businessman. He still is all of these things.
Unfortunately he’s also arguably completely mad.
In 1990 his first wife, Mimi, introduced him to Scientology. Since then we have been treated to public spats with Brooke Shields, the lobbying of politicians to reclassify Scientology as a religion in France and Germany, and the infamous Oprah incident.
And of course he dumped Nicole Kidman.
In recent times his star has been tarnished by his urge to bounce on the upholstery, split with old studio Paramount and his increasingly odd appearance – have you seen his haircut?
Tom isn’t one to rest on his laurels, a passionate believer in one’s ability to define their own environment I can imagine Tom is getting ready for Reality 2.0. I can see it now…
Highly suspicious of the pictures of strangely well-developed spawn of Cruise and Holmes, Oprah mounts an undercover operation. Sneaking into Cruise’s trailer on the set of Valkyrie she places a video camera on the windowsill, when Cruise comes in for a costume change he is being watched, the truth revealed.
Cruise is an alien.
Hailing from the planet Wibble in the constellation of Phlegm he has come to earth to promote monobrows, cheeky grins, improbable laughs and power hugs. Oprah can see her Pulitzer coming but more importantly the opportunity to make even more money, soon she’ll have enough to buy the entire continent.
She tries to blackmail Tom threatening to run a show with Katie “So I married an alien…no really.”
Paying up is out of the question for Tom, all his money is in L. Ron Hubbard soft toy merchandising. Nor can he have the truth slip out – Bush doesn’t like illegals from this world let alone off world. Tom resolves to eliminate Oprah.
Using his devious alien mind-skills he reprograms a two-headed Emu to attack the queen of daytime telly. The next day the papers carry the news that Oprah is no more, the victim of a demented Dromaius and a small footnote about a dwarf burning a videotape in her honour.
All has gone to plan.
Except the segment before the diva met her end was called “Too cheap to buy a new raincoat” and by chance one of the guests is a detective, the first policeman on the scene. The cigar smoking plod finds a pair of abandoned lifters off the side of the set, his only clue.
And Tom would have got away with it if only he’d remember to wear his big pair of socks. Now the LAPD is going around trying to find the foot that fits. They’ve done De Niro, passed Pacino, measured Mel and it’s only a matter of time.
Time to return to Phlegm.
It’s the only way. At least we’ll still have the L. Ron Hubbard soft toys.