Eddie Redmayne is rapidly shrinking into the slippery dark brown leather sofa upon which he sits, his head is disappearing under the neckline of his navy blue jumper, and his hands are raised ready to cover his ears. The cause of his discomfort? Me, sadly, as I read aloud some comments I’ve found on the various fansites dedicated to his very being.
“Eddie: Flawless, ethereal, could ‘get it’ wearing tweed any day of the week,” I read out to him. “Wearing tweed?” he repeats in his very British accent, following it with a huge burst of laughter. “Eddie is possibly the best human in the world,” I continue, as he shrinks further. “Oh, God!”
“Eddie is so charming, and I am legit attracted to him.”
“Legit?” he guffaws. “LEGIT?”
