Nobody writes like Stephen Fry. For that matter, nobody speaks like Stephen Fry. I interviewed him at SIFF a couple of years ago and not only was he charm personified (even on a day when he had jet lag and bad allergies), but spoke in beautiful, complete, complex sentences as if reading from some elegant tome. (A side note: If your job involves frequent interviews and subsequent transcriptions, you learn quickly that most people — even the smart ones — speak in ungrammatical fragments and bursts. Fry does not; his sentences are little masterpieces of phrasing and art. The man is a walking poem.)
Anyway, I’ve belatedly discovered his website, and it’s irresistible. (Case in point: I, a resolute non-Twitterer, may just have to become a follower — his tweets are a pleasure.) For those who appreciate lovely writing — and those who, like me, just might be struggling with a deadline at the moment — here’s a sample from his blog:
Professor Higgins opens the My Fair Lady Song, “I’ve Thrown A Custard in her Face” with a long string of Damns, which I am in a mood to repeat. I have a ten-ton deadline hanging over me suspended by a single human hair. If I don’t stay and stare at my screen all day every day until I have bled out a screenplay I will have my nipples torn from me like medals from the tunic of a disgraced officer and Shame will know me for her own.
That made my day. Thanks, Stephen.