My old matinee idol chum seems to have got himself into a spot of bother again. Normally he's a mild mannered sort of cove but, as they say, still waters run deep.
I remember him spitting his dummy at our annual Water Voles Cricket XI dinner back in the 90s, just after he'd been in Four Weddings. Our captain had spent the entire evening teasing him relentlessly regarding repeated rumours (eat your heart out Wossie!) of a dalliance with Our Madge. In fact a story about her telephoning him and inviting him out to dinner had appeared in the Evening Standard that very day, and the journalist who wrote it was sitting at the same table.
Half way through the main course there was a frightful din and a clatter of cutlery. I looked up just in time to see the floppy-haired one storming out the door.
We never saw him again. He went off to the States, where, if you remember, he found someone to suck his dummy for him.