Despite a sudden rumour, it turns out that Joaquin Phoenix isn’t going to appear as Edgar Allan Poe, after all. To mark this non-event, I wrote a poem:
To play Edgar Allan, Joaquin was leery, he’d grown fat, was looking beery
Money? After Gladiator and Walk the Line he had no need for more.
While he played at funky rapping, smoking dope and frequently fapping
the phone kept ringing, his agent kept bringing scripts to his door.
“Fuck off,” he muttered, “sticking scripts underneath my door –
bring me skunk, and nothing more.”