Stephen Fry

Upstairs at the Café de Paris, a nightclub in Piccadilly, an unattended mobile phone is ringing. More accurately, the mobile is barking out the words, 'Stephen, answer the sodding phone. Stephen, answer the sodding phone. Stephen...' The velvety bass voice is unmistakeably that of its owner, Stephen Fry. He emerges to retrieve it a few minutes later - nine feet tall, jawline like the prow of a ship, a physically awkward, middle-aged schoolboy checking his side-parting with his hand - and apologises Read more [...]

Matt Le Blanc

Perhaps it's the pain that blurs and distorts Matt Le Blanc's appearance. Perhaps it's the painkillers. Either way, he's pretty much unrecognisable as he slouches into the dimly lit bar in Beverly Hills. No big entrance, no swagger, no boyish grin in camera-conscious three-quarter profile. Instead, that firm jaw-line is diffused by a week's stubble, and the leather jacket he's wearing makes his shoulders look rounded, his physique stocky. I squint uncertainly and give him one of those vague hand Read more [...]