I like Port Douglas. I was there with my sister and friend (who cannot be named for legal reasons involving a court-restraining order by a Hollywood hunk, which will become
clearer later).
We were in Queensland for one reason, and for one reason only: to stalk Matthew McConaughey, who was there filming his new blockbuster. The mission: remain dignified and look immaculate at all times, seek the target, Matthew, and make him our husband!
The target was everything. There was no time to be distracted by cute, floppy-haired surfers or stripey orange fish called Nemo.
We explored the fabulous little town. Okay, a better description would be, we entered every establishment, from convenience stores to restaurants, asking “has he been here, have you seen him, are you hiding him under the counter?”
It seemed every place was the same… “Oh you just missed him, he was just in here buying groceries/having a bottle of wine/sending postcards home to mum… what a lovely young man, oooh and isn’t he handsome.”
“Yes of course he’s bloody handsome woman, that’s why he’s a Hollywood star who gets paid five million to get out of bed. Now tell us where he is.
NOOOOOOOOOOW!”
Exhausted, hot and sweaty, we were admiring Four Mile Beach one lazy afternoon when we noticed a figure in the distance jogging happily towards us. As the figure came closer, we looked at it, looked at each other, looked again.
No, it couldn’t be? Surely not Matthew himself, out for his daily afternoon jog? Yes it is! Wow it’s fate, it was meant to happen.
He’s going to fall in love with me and I’ll be in Heat magazine and Matthew will be saying how nice it is being with a down to earth British girl, who doesn’t eat lettuce for breakfast.
As the figure, or Adonis as it clearly became apparent, running towards us with the sun glinting off his pecks, got closer, we quickened to a light jog.
“Okay girls,” I said, “let’s not get star-struck, don’t draw attention to ourselves, act cool okay. Got it? Right.”
However, as he got very close, my two travel companions decided to lose all dignity and started flailing their arms, screaming “Matthew, Matthew,” as loud as they could while their light jog became full-blown sprints towards him.
The phrase “rabbit caught in headlights” springs to mind as Matt, looking petrified, proceeded to do a full 360 and run off in the opposite direction, as fast as his beautifully-tanned legs would carry him. Well done girls – great work!
Not deterred, we turned up at the film set at 5am the next day. Fully made up and gorgeously dressed (well, as nicely as we could, bearing in mind our limited backpack resources).
“We’re here to be extras,” we announced to the bored-looking, but oddly sexy, security guard. “Right over there ladies, and help yourselves to a nice cup of tea. ”And there he was, topless in all his glory emerging from his trailer like some bronzed hunk of god.
Looking our way, our eyes met, we had a moment. Oh crap, there comes bloody gorgeous Kate Hudson. Okay maybe he was smiling at her. But I doubt it, she was looking pretty average that morning.
As the beautiful one (sorry Kate, you are quite pretty too I suppose) disappeared back into his trailer as fast as you could say “psycho stalker,” we were asked to leave.
We set off, hopeful that our applications would be processed and that tomorrow we would be Hollywood actresses, living a life of premieres, pampering days and magazine interviews.
Hollywood never called.
We trotted off down to Cairns to drown our sorrows by drinking our body weight in jaeger bombs and settled for a nice snog with Dave from Essex instead.
