but what photoshoot

4

“Please man, I beg you, don’t write about what I’m about to do,” says Colin Farrell, standing over an Apple laptop in his kitchen. It is 1.30am and we are approaching the end of an interview that has lasted the best part of half a day - one that has included a couple of hours with us both practically naked and smeared in honey in a Russian bathhouse, and enough revelations about drink, women and extreme drug abuse to make your hair stand on end, turn white and then fall out - so I am intrigued to know what is coming next. He opens his web browser and pulls up Google before carefully typing, one finger at a time, “Colin Farrell” into the search panel. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was bored the other day and I looked up my name. Who am I kidding? I do it all the time. Anyway, I want to show you this photo.”