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Do you want to meet Cameron Diaz? Well, now you can!

She’s visiting soon as…believe it or not: Cameron and I are old mates.

It all began a few years ago, during the holiday weekend we accidentally spent together at the Ice Hotel in Jukhasjarvi, Sweden.

I was there attending my best friend’s wedding. Cameron was just trying to get away from it all. We bumped in to one another at check in where Ms Diaz was seeking to wear the mask of anonymity, but Mari the receptionist was having none of it – hers, I imagined, having been a life distinctly ordinary up to them, she clearly felt it might be about to become much less so.

Some thinking outside the box was called for, so I introduced myself. It was a bit of a gambit on my part admittedly. I didn’t know what to expect. When you’re expecting just a few friends and suddenly a mega star is beside you, well…it’s not easy: and sometimes very bad things will happen, but on this occasion, happily not.

We retreated to the bar, Mari staring adoringly after us – well, one of us, and sat in a corner putting away a few Michelobs. Cameron likes a beer or two. It was then I made the ultimately ill-advised suggestion that Ms Diaz might find the solitude she was seeking ice fishing on the nearby lake. She concurred. Lars, the instructor accompanied us.

One shouldn’t really go ice fishing when inebriated and unfortunately Cameron fell in rather too wide a hole that Lars had dug.  A shriek was heard, but as she was obviously failing to keep her head above water and as Lars was nowhere to be seen I plunged in after her and saved the day. When we returned to the hotel, perhaps unsurprisingly, nobody wanted to be in her shoes as the Swedish media arrived en masse. I deflected their attention to another female celebrity also staying at the hotel, advising them: she’s the one you ought to interview, and in the end Cameron’s escapade was only a minority report in a local rag.

I took her as my guest to the wedding on the Saturday where, after more Michelobs, she made an impromptu speech vilifying Lars as a bad teacher and praising the other woman – the one I’d steered the press to, as her saviour.

The last day was pure bliss, but we destroyed the sex tape. It was the right thing to do as it contained stuff I wouldn’t normally do on any given Sunday and, as Cameron said, what happens in Sweden stays in Sweden. As we left the hotel the receptionist looked so star struck that I felt bound to observe: there’s something about Mari, there are things you can tell just by looking at her. Cameron concurred.

It’s all true, but if, like many I’ve recounted this history to in the past you are among the unbelievers and consider this a liar’s autobiography, well I guess that’s just the way some people are in a world like ours. But for me Cameron, Michelob in hand, was and will always be the sweetest thing and, perhaps… I’m just being John Malkovich.

(How many film references did you find? – there are 25)

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