Helena Bonham Fugter

[Photos: WENN.com]

HELENA BONHAM CARTER: Oh, Tim. You are so precious. I DO love you.

MICHAEL SHEEN: I’m… not your husband.

HBC: Of course you are! And I’m so enjoying this wedding.

MICHAEL : I’m not, and also, this isn’t a wedding.

HBC: Quite right — it’s not just A wedding. It’s a ROYAL wedding. How silly of me to imply it’s just some run-of-the-mill marriage when I am wearing a crazy hat!

MICHAEL : … Nope, not that either.

HBC: NOT a wedding, then? Hmm. Must be a funeral. Why didn’t you tell me, Tim? I’d have left the chafing dish and pickle forks at home.

MICHAEL : Oh, God, this is awkward. Helena, look at me. At ME. Michael.

HBC: Why am I holding this thing in my hand? This must be a dream! God, it’s strange. But quite exciting. Where will I be next, I wonder? I hope it’s Versailles! Or maybe in the conservatory, killing Miss Scarlett with this plexiglass thing.

MICHAEL: Does anyone have a bucket of water to throw on her? No, wait, it’ll ruin my suit. I’ll just pinch her instead.

HBC: BLOODY HELL, that was… wait, hang on a mo, when did Michael Sheen get here? And where IS here, exactly?

MICHAEL: Welcome back, Helena. We’re at some awards thingy together. Don’t be alarmed, but you’re wearing a giant veil stapled to a fascinator of some ilk.

HBC: Oh, bollocks. And people can see me?

MICHAEL: Yes.

HBC: And I’ve been here how long?

MICHAEL: At least twenty minutes.

HBC: And did I… nuzzle you?

MICHAEL: Yes indeedy.

HBC: That settles it. I’m going to THROTTLE Tim for letting me sleepwalk this far out of the house.