Hell Hath No Fury Like A Nanny Boffed, Then Scorned

After the great Jude Law Nanny-Diddling of '05, having sex with the hired sitter of one's children became terribly passÈ. But Colin Farrell, with his George Michael facial hair spume and totally sweet tribal tats, pays no mind to the sexual trends of the day, and recently plowed his way through Woody Allen's French au pair with little finesse. If only he had heeded the example set by Law, he would have known that although nannyjuice might be the sweetest, these kindly caregivers sing like canaries to the British press when tossed aside.

Colin met Angelique Jerome, the former au pair of Woody Allen's children. Surely she signed a confidentiality agreement for that job, so you know she's been chomping at the bit to let loose a torrent of celebrity dirt. Enter Colin Farrell. She met him on a movie set in London, he got her number, and within hours she found herself firmly impaled on the Farrell fanny-ferret, the size of which Angelique claims is about a fourth of what was previously believed. After he snubbed her that night for Gong Li, she told her story to the Mirror. Pull up a carpet square, grab some Teddy Grahams, and listen to the tale:

"He has a great body and a charm that any woman would kill for. But he's all talk. Between the sheets, he is a let-down with only half a baguette in his lunchbox, if you know what I mean. He comes across as a tiger on screen, but behind closed doors he's as wild as Mickey Mouse . . . He kept saying 'C'est bon, you're beautiful, c'est bon'. He sounded like James Blunt.

"Once he'd got what he fancied – in about 10 seconds flat – he just wanted to go to sleep . . . He was so keen to have me, he didn't want to wear any protection. He just said, 'It'll be OK, it'll be OK'. But for all his ardour, it was like he was reading from a text book, lurching from one position to another. He loved it when I climbed on top. He was cooing, 'C'est bon, c'est bon'. It's clearly the only French he knows.

"We made love three times but the actual sex only lasted 10 minutes in total. At one point he lifted me up and carried me to one side of the bed so we were both looking in his full-length mirror. He said, 'Look how beautiful you are'.

"To be fair, he did try and give me pleasure, kissing me all down my body – but his heart wasn't really in it. I kept having to fake orgasm – one, two, three – to keep him happy and let him keep his dignity. It seemed the polite thing to do."

Ah, the disappointment. The regret. The venom, the anger! But the most hilarious part is that Angelique is less concerned with the fact that, after having unprotected sex with Colin Farrell, she may be presently being slowly devoured alive by crabs, and more into mocking his poor French. That's a true Parisian, right there.

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