I was going to write about these Clive Owen photos yesterday, perhaps even see if our Clive had written us a dirty little love note, but I ended up punting on the story until today. Mostly because Clive Owen is just so… aimless lately. Like, I’m still hot for him, and he’s still a gorgeous, amazing man, but where has he been lately? These photos are from the Laureus Sports Awards two nights ago – Clive was the host of the London event. That’s what he does nowadays – he models, he gets paid to show up at events, he hosts sports awards shows. Clive used to be one of the most in-demand English actors out there. Why isn’t he getting more work? Why isn’t Clive making our biscuits tingle on the silver screen every six months?

Clive’s latest is an HBO film. There’s no shame in doing television, especially when it’s a big-budget HBO-style affair. Clive plays Ernest Hemingway in Hemingway & Gellhorn. Nicole Kidman and her jacked lips are playing one of Hemingway’s wives, Martha Gellhorn. Martha Gellhorn was a ballsy, groundbreaking female journalist and war correspondent. Nicole plays Gellhorn like a ditzy romantic heroine. Don’t believe me? HBO released a five minute trailer for the film, and while Clive looks interesting, Nicole looks HORRIBLE. And by horrible, I mean her lips look WORSE than Lindsay Lohan’s. It’s distracting. Plus, there’s a major tone problem. Here’s the trailer – it’s NSFW, by the way. There’s some nudity in there. Unfortunately, it’s not Clive.

Photos courtesy of WENN.

FROM THE DESK OF CLIVE OWEN:

Have you bitches missed me? I have missed you, if you couldn’t tell by my haggard-yet-handsome face. I know, I’m not aging spectacularly and even though I was wearing a beautiful tuxedo last night, I still looked rather tired and drawn. On the bright side, I’m not going in for facelifts. I would never. I draw out the real fans by who still love me even when I’m slightly paunchy. Everything still works properly, you know. And I could still do some absolutely filthy things to you. Simmer on that.

So these are some photos of me and Olivier Martinez, Jet Li, Jerry Hall and Kathleen Turner in Germany – where we were being honored at UNESCO’s 20th anniversary gala. I was honored for my work with the Aegis Trust, and for the work I’ve done on genocide awareness, especially in Rwanda. If you’d like to read my speech, in which I describe taking my then 12-year-old daughter to Rwanda to meet survivors and family members of the 1994 genocide, go here. It’s devastating. So perhaps you’ll forgive me if I’m not looking particularly dashing and dongy in these photos – perhaps you’ll instead be turned on by how big my HEART is. Because I give a s–t. Deeply.

And even though I’m a scruffy, paunchy bastard, you know you would still want a go with me. And I’m wearing the hell out of this tux. Admit it.

Yours always,
Clive

PS… There have been some mutterings about my marriage, and how I haven’t been wearing a wedding ring lately. That’s got you perked up, hasn’t it?

Photos courtesy of WENN & Fame.

FROM THE DESK OF CLIVE OWEN:

Hello ladiesOHDEARGODWHATISONMYFACE?!? As you can see, I included an older photo of myself, from when I was offering you lovely bitches mustache rides at a discount. Even though I don’t really care for the mustache, I wanted to remind of just how awful that period of my life was. That was before I began writing to you! I didn’t know what I was doing. I only did it for a movie, I promise. It’s the movie I have coming out this weekend, The Killer Elite. That’s the movie where I’m so awesome, I get to beat the hell out of Jason Statham and Robert DeNiro. That both got bitch-slapped by the Clive ‘Stache. Here’s the trailer:

It’s actually looks pretty good, right? I know you bitches will come for the Clive, and stay for the ‘Stache. I even talking about hat the ‘Stache of Doom in some recent interviews:

Clive Owen unexpectedly showed up to shoot his new movie, “Killer Elite, with “an ’80s mustache” because he thought it made sense for the era. “I looked at pictures of the ’80s, and everyone had mustaches,” Owen said. “If you look at soccer teams — any pictures from that period — mustaches were big, so I felt I should go there.”

“I take full responsibility for it,” says a now-clean-shaven Owen of his unfortunate moustache. “In my defense, if you look at pictures of the UK from that period, everyone had one.”

Luckily, director Gary McKendry agreed. Co-star Robert De Niro also embarked on his own facial hair experiment: While heading the Cannes jury in May, he began growing a beard because he thought his character needed one, even though he was snapped daily with super-groomed jury members Jude Law and Uma Thurman.

[From Page Six & The Toronto Sun]

I’ve got a new interview with Jason Statham too. You can read the full thing here. There’s some homoerotic stuff in there, like, “I have to say, I liked fighting Jason. I do like shooting fight sequences. You get in the moment, and there’s something very enjoyable about it. When you’re doing big dialogue scenes, you always look back and think, “I could have done this, I could have done that,” but there aren’t many options when you’re punching someone. So you just kind of get into the moment and enjoy it. It’s finite. Satisfying.” Are your biscuits tingling at the thought of Jason and I man-handling each other? Then my work here is done.

I was out and about in London last night too:

Photos courtesy of Fame & WENN.

FROM THE DESK OF CLIVE OWEN:

My darling ladies, my lovely bitches. It’s been much too long! What have you done in my absence? Or should I ask, WHO you have done? I know you were showing some interest in that Fassbender fellow – I approve of him, as you know. He’s the only true heir to the Clive-Dong. He’s a wonderful partner in homoeroticism as well. I remember seeing that ginger hair, looking over at his tight body in a pair of tight jeans and leather, and I knew that whatever we needed to do to bring the homoerotic love to our ladies, it would be worth it. You can fan your biscuits now.

But what have I been doing, you may ask. I was in Toronto to check in on my lovely Canadian bitches. And now I’m in San Sebastian, because you know I love some Spanish ladies. I’m also promoting a horror movie I did called Intruders. It’s terrifying, but don’t worry. I’ll hold you close while we watch it together. I’ll press my body against yours, and I’ll run the tips of my fingers down your back while you nestle your face into my chest. “Don’t worry,” I’ll growl. “Clive is here to make it all better.” And then I’ll unzip my pants.

Photos courtesy of WENN.

FROM THE DESK OF CLIVE OWEN:

Hello, my darling ladies-slash-bitches. I’m in London, thinking about you. That’s why I look so sad! I wish you were here with me, walking down these dark, London streets, wrapped up in my jacket. I wish we were on our way back to the hotel, where you could bask in The Clive and the Musk d’CliveDong. The sheets are clean, and the sex is filthy.

Are you still thinking about how I pressed Michael Fassbender against a wall and had my way with him, all for your pleasure? I am as well. I very much hope to work with that Ginger Viking, hopefully in some kind of explicit homoerotic film in which we are both wearing little to no clothes, drenched in sweat and biting each other. Yes, I shall wait for you to catch your breath.

By the way, did you know that I made a film called Intruders? I did. And it’s a horror film! Here’s the teaser trailer, in which I’m all protective of my family:

Something is trying to get my daughter, and I save the day. I think. It’s difficult to say because the Spanish-dubbed trailer is the only full-length one to be released thus far. So this is how I would sound if I was from Spain…

Spainish Clive Dong! The heady musk, with guacamole on the side and a tequila chaser. The film will be premiering at a film festival in Spain in September. Mark your calendars, ladies. Spanish biscuits will be trembling. You should come with me, to keep me company. You can eat nachos off my chest.

Until we meet again, my loves. Think of me always, especially when you’re in the shower, all lathered up. Oh! Now I need a moment.

Photos courtesy of Fame.

FROM THE DESK OF CLIVE OWEN:

Hello, darlings. So many letters lately, right? That should show you how much I miss you. I miss your eyes. I miss your smile. I miss you, missing me. After a brief journey to Ireland, where I made those drunken lasses swoon with the Musk d’CliveDong, I returned last night to London, where I attended a party for Armani. It was there that I ran into someone very, very interesting, and that is the reason for my letter.

Yes, I met Michael Fassbender. Michael and I were in the same space, breathing the same air, our dongs only inches away from each other (and then later, pressed against each other). I have to say… he’s my kind of man. He’s manly and saucy and badass. If you have a crush on him, I approve. Just as long as you keep me as your Number One, I will not be upset if sometimes lust over The Fassbender.

I thought of you lovely bitches when I saw him, and I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to create a homoerotic moment, just so I could explain it all in detail to you in this letter. I approached him slowly, letting the alcohol do most of my work. At that point in the evening, he looked like this:

My goal was to get him to look like this:

And it happened. Sure, I’ll wait a moment while you catch your breath.

Where was I? Oh, yes. I was getting Fassie liquored up. And then the time was right. I slide my hand against his waist and leaned in to whisper in his ear. He leaned in too, and my lips were quickly pressed against his neck. “We need to do this,” I told him. “For the girls. They NEED us to do this.” Michael pulled away and met my gaze. He surprised me with how forward he was… he took my hand and brought me to a dark corner of the party. Before I knew it, I had a handful of his ginger hair in my hands and our lips were locked together, our bodies intertwined, pushed against the wall. And just as quickly, we released each other. “For the girls,” I repeated. “Yes, for the girls,” Michael agreed, slipping me his hotel room key.

Need a moment? I’ll wait.

Photos courtesy of The Telegraph & Pacific Coast News.

FROM THE DESK OF CLIVE OWEN:

Darling lasses! It is I, your Lord and Master, Clive Owen, dashing off another naughty little note for all of you, my loves. You’re catching up with me while I film a movie in Dublin, Ireland. God bless it, I love Irish lasses. So pretty and so drunk. Is that anti-Irish to say? It’s quite possible that these lovely Irish girls aren’t drunk off alcohol – they could simply be drunk off of The Musk d’CliveDong. As soon as I arrive in any city, my scent wafts through the air, making sexy bitches delirious and horny. To the untrained eye, they appear drunk, but in truth, they’re overcome with The Musk (and they’re probably drunk too).

Would you like to know about this film I’m doing? It’s called Shadow Dancer – NOT MY CHOICE. It sounds like an Elton John song… not that there’s anything wrong with Elton John (when I show up at your door, I will have roses and chocolate and I will serenade you with “Your Song”). But if I was in charge of naming my movies, they would have titles like “Biscuit Threat: Clive’s Pants” and “To Dong and Beyond: The Clive Owen Story”. Anyhoodledongmusk, the film is totally depressing. Something about a young mother involved with the IRA who becomes an MI5 informant. And you wonder why I write to you… you are what lifts my spirits! You and Nespresso, which I’m carrying in these photos. All I need is you and Nespresso, bitches.

On a lighter note, you do remember that I’ve got a film coming out in September, right? It’s called The Killer Elite, and I’m mixing it up with a mustache, Robert DeNiro and Jason Statham. I get to play with big guns (and actual firearms). My mustache twitches winningly, and of course, villains always have more fun. I’m including the trailer (again) and the new poster. I don’t mind if you lick my mustache. Seriously. Go ahead.

Photos courtesy of Fame.

FROM THE DESK OF CLIVE OWEN:

Hello, my darling biscuits. Did you lovely bitches miss me? I haven’t dropped you a line in so long. I’ve been busy… and no, I haven’t been writing to any other girls. It just took me some time to shave off my Hemingway ‘stache and fully regain my patented biscuit-quivering hotness again. And I have regained, haven’t I? Look at how I smirk at you, knowing that you’re drooling? It’s fine, my lovers. Clive is here. And these pants come off in a matter of seconds.

These photos of me are from Paris – I was at the “80th Reverso Jaeger Lecoultre Anniversary Party held at the Ecole Des Beaux Arts.” Which is much, much too fancy, which is why I got slightly bored and it occurred to me that we hadn’t corresponded much lately. Don’t even bother telling me what you’ve been up to – I know already. Michael Fassbender, Gerard Butler, James McAvoy, Alex Skarsgard. You know they’re all pussies, right? I could take them all on at once with one hand tied behind my back. I could also give you a night of exquisite pleasure… with your hands tied behind your back. Think about it.

Still, I worried that too much time had passed and that you might be “over” me. So I decided to pose with someone douchey, just so you would realize it: “Ah, Clive really is the ONLY option.” Here I am, laughing at Adrien Brody’s douche:

And here I am with Catherine Deneuve. NAILED HER! You can tell because she has that perplexed, satisfied look.

In case you needed extra evidence of my badassery, have you watched the trailer for my new movie, Killer Elite, yet? It has Jason Statham and Robert DeNiro and my mustache. But soon you’ll forget about the ‘stache when I start beating the hell out of people and looking sweaty and peeved and horny. It’s erotic, I know.

I mean… how do you NOT want to see that? CLIVE BEING CLIVE. Clive being badass. Clive being sweaty. Clive being aggravated. Clive taking what he wants. Clive taking what he needs. Clive in your bed. You know you can’t resist.

Photos courtesy of WENN & Fame.

FROM THE DESK OF CLIVE OWEN:

Hello, my darling biscuits. Today you are going to get a special treat! Please don’t yell at me, but somehow my (fine) ass got roped into wearing a beret on this movie I‘m filming, Hemingway & Gellhorn. Sure, on ME, the beret is a tool of eroticism. On other (lesser) men, it is quite cheesy and wrong. Will you still love The Clive when I’ve got this funky pornstache AND a beret? Of course you will, my darling muffins.

Imagine this beret grazing your thighs. See? It’s not completely terrible.

And if The Erotic Beret weren’t enough of a pleasurable sight, I give you Rodrigo Santoro drinking and pissing in Nature’s toilet, a field with paparazzi. Rodrigo is very handsome, isn’t he?

And of course, my partner in crime (on this film, anyway), Nicole Kidman. I still think this is a fantastic wig on her. By the way, can any of you darling biscuits explain what is happening to Nicole’s lips? When we’re doing closeup scenes, her lips are kind of crazy. None of you ladies do that junk to your lips, alright?

Photos courtesy of Fame.

FROM THE DESK OF CLIVE OWEN:

Hello, darlings. Don’t let the pornstache disturb you. Imagine the whiskers tickling your neck. Your breasts. Your stomach. Your biscuit. That’s better, isn’t it? And don’t let the little double chin upset you either. I’m getting slightly jowly, but at least I’m not getting plastic surgery. And I don’t want you to mess with your beautiful face either.

I just decided to drop you this line from the premiere of my new film, Trust. This mess was directed by David Schwimmer, and it’s all about me being a vengeful father after my daughter goes on the Internet and some predator gets to her. I take out the Internet predators. I’m like Chris Hanson, only I have a pornstache and your biscuits are tingling. But yes, this film looks like a disaster. I apologize.

By the way, as you may remember from previous letters, this pornstache is because I’m playing Ernest Hemingway. I’m not sure if that’s a biscuit-tingler or not, but at least I’m still working.

Photos courtesy of Fame.