Until now, Christina Hendricks has been suffering – slaving away on a show that barely anyone watches.

She’s been ignored by the masses. But not any more. Although she’s been noticed by every single viewer of Mad Men – which, despite all its critical acclaim, still amounts to three middle-aged men and a barely-interested dog – now Christina Hendricks is ready to hit the big league. And by ‘big league’ we mean ‘the league where millions of 14-year-old boys masturbate relentlessly to magazine photographs of her in a pair of pants and half a gallon of warmed-up goose fat’.

That’s right, Esquire has just named Christina Hendricks as America’s best looking woman. Read that again. She’s only America’s best looking woman. You see, Christina Hendricks may have flame-red hair, a perfect body and a constant sultry expression on her face, but she’s no match for Britain’s Pat Butcher. That’s right, we said it.

This is a landmark day for Christina Hendricks. She may have spent the last few years of her life doing little more than playing the accordion and letting her husband rape her on Mad Men, but that’s all about to change. Because now a magazine has put her at the top of one of its Beautiful Women polls. All of a sudden Christina Hendricks is up there with Halle Berry and Eva Longoria, which means her profile has just gone stratospheric.

So what will she do now? Should Christina Hendricks follow the Longoria route and labour on with her television show while watching her dreams of movie stardom vanish into the sunset, only occasionally livening things up by wearing hotpants that display a cameltoe so obnoxiously gigantic that pilots often try to touch their planes down on it when she’s not looking? Or should she follow the Halle Berry route and just make hundreds of crap films one after the other until everyone forgets that she even exists?

That’s a decision for another day, because now that she’s officially the best-looking woman in America according to Esquire, Christina Hendricks can concentrate on writing an open letter to all men as if she’s the spokesperson for every woman on the face on the planet all of a sudden. Fox quotes:

“If we’re in love with you, we love your body. Your potbelly, everything. Even if you’re insecure about something, we love your body. You feel like you’re not this or that? We love your body. We embrace everything. Because it’s you… We want you to order Scotch. It’s the most impressive drink order. It’s classic. It’s sexy. Such a rich color. The glass, the smell. It’s Scotch. And you ordered it.”

That’s just an extract, of course – elsewhere in the letter Christina Hendricks goes on to point out that women love it if you fart in bed and then hold the covers over their head so they have to breathe it in, and that there’s nothing sexier than when you watch a woman do the ironing and Top Gear’s on and you’ve got one hand down your trousers and you’re trying to burp the word ‘Robocop’.

No, really, you can ask her.

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At the last count Clint Eastwood was roughly 6,000 years old – and yet he can still beat you in a fight, you pathetic pussy.

Yeah, that’s right. Clint Eastwood thinks you’re a pussy. You know that time you had an argument with your neighbour and decided to back off instead of attacking him with the back of a shovel? Clint Eastwood knows about that, and he thinks you’re a pussy for it. You pussy.

Clint Eastwood has given perhaps the best interview of all time to Esquire, and it’s all about how much of a pussy you are. No joke.

As a 78-year-old man, logic dictates that Clint Eastwood should spend his days mumbling things like “I know what you’re thinking; did he fire six shots or only five? Well, to tell you the truth I can’t even remember where I put my slippers or the names of any of my children,” and “Make my day – empty my colostomy bag.”

But that’s not what Clint Eastwood is doing at all. In fact, Clint Eastwood’s new film Gran Torino sees him play a violent, bad-tempered old bastard who beats up Asians a lot and looks like he wants to punch the world in the face. And that must have been a stretch for Clint Eastwood, since in real life he appears to be a violent, bad-tempered old bastard who looks like he wants to punch the world in the face. Nothing about beating Asians up, you see. A stretch.

Actually we’re just assuming that’s how Clint Eastwood is, based on the jaw-dropping interview he’s just done with Esquire. In short, it seems to suggest that everyone younger than Clint Eastwood is a pussy and everyone older than Clint Eastwood is dead, which leaves Clint Eastwood as a sort of God-figure who’d be quite happy to break everyone’s nose if he had to. Again, no joke:

“We live in more of a pussy generation now, where everybody’s become used to saying, “Well, how do we handle it psychologically?” In those days, you just punched the bully back and duked it out. Even if the guy was older and could push you around, at least you were respected for fighting back, and you’d be left alone from then on.”

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Elsewhere Clint Eastwood’s points seem to be a) people who think about things are stupid, b) stupid people deserve to die and c) what’s with all these young folk with their piercings and haircuts these day? They sure do look strange.

Of course, there’s a chance that Clint Eastwood is just playing up this side of his persona because it suits Gran Torino, but we sort of hope he isn’t – after all, he didn’t promote Million Dollar Baby by helping disabled women bite their own tongues off, did he? No, we want Clint Eastwood to be like this all the time.

In fact, more than that, we want Clint Eastwood to use this anger to start a vigilante pussy-fighting group for elderly male celebrities. Would you talk openly about your feelings if you thought that Kofi Annan would chase you down and kung-fu you in the throat? Would you earnestly listen to the music of Paolo Nutini if it meant that Sir Donald Sinden would break into your house at night and smash your kneecaps with a breezeblock? No you wouldn’t. Make it happen, Clint.

Read more:

Clint Eastwood: What I’ve Learnt – Esquire

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That Halle Berry, eh? She’s a funny looking woman – we once saw a picture of Halle Berry in a magazine and we went right off our tea.

And yet, despite obviously looking like a sort of cross between the back end of a bus and a bulldog’s floppy genitals, Esquire magazine has decided to name Halle Berry as its Sexiest Woman Alive. Which is just weird because, you know, Halle Berry. Bleurgh. No, wait, we got mixed up – we were thinking of former EastEnders and Heartbeat star Nick Berry. He’s not actually very sexy at all. But Halle Berry is actually sort of pretty.

Anyway, we could be wrong, but in the accompanying interview it seems like Halle Berry equates sexiness with masturbating a lot. There’s hope for us yet!

We’re coming to learn that when a magazine chooses its sexiest women, it’s more of a reflection of the readership than the woman it chooses. That’s why FHM always stumps for someone like Megan Fox – women who look like third-generation Chinese-whispered police sketches of what 14-year-old boys most like to wank to – while People magazine always goes for Kate Hudson because she looks approachable and is more likely to sell hair conditioner to housewives.

And then there’s Esquire. Marginally more intelligent than other lad mags, Esquire is the publication for slightly more mature men who want to look like they enjoy reading articles on Philip Seymour Hoffman when really they just want to bash one out to all the pictures of Jessica Biel as soon as the wife goes out.

So, as such, it’s only natural that Esquire would pick Halle Berry – a 42-year-old new mother who once harboured thoughts of suicide – as its Sexiest Woman Alive. Because Halle Berry is intelligent, you see. And stylish. And she looks sort of slutty if you take off her trousers and just make her wear a procession of tight T-shirts. Which, funnily enough is what Esquire did.

As we all know, when you’re voted as the Sexiest Woman Alive it’s traditional to respond with a sort of “aw, shucks, me?” shrug that belies the fact that you haven’t eaten anything but slices of carrot since 2004 and you spend eight hours every morning individually moisturising each one of your eyebrow hairs. So that’s what Halle Berry did too, right?

No. Instead Halle Berry kind of acted like she already knew she was sexier than everyone else and then started talking about what we presume to be masturbation.

“I know damned well I am sexier now than I used to be. You know the stuff they say about a woman being responsible for her own orgasms? That’s all true. And in my case, that makes me responsible for pretty damned good orgasms these days.”

Well, that’s nice. Any other final masturbation-centric life mottos, Halle?

“Sexiness is a state of mind — a comfortable state of being. It’s about loving yourself in your most unlovable moments.”

Loving yourself. What a nice way to put it. Anyway, Halle Berry being named as Esquire‘s Sexiest Woman Alive isn’t just good news for Halle Berry and randy men, it also sends a very positive message to women, too.

It says that 42-year-old mothers of newborn babies can be sexy too. So long as, you know, they’re millionaire Oscar-winning actresses, models and beauty queens who lucked out genetically and get to live with male supermodels. And that’s everyone, right?

For as much as the world justifiably makes fun of Fabio, not many would perhaps make as much fun to his face.

Two feet behind him sniggering and pointing? Yes. While watching his fake butter commercials from the comfort and safety of our living room? Naturally. But not to his face, because he’s actually a pretty big dude, and if you get beaten up by Fabio you may as well just fasten a plastic bag over your face right tight because you only have a lifetime of crippling humiliation to look forward to.  

According to an interview in April’s edition of Esquire magazine, actor George Clooney had somewhat of a similar realisation when he had a nasty encounter with Fabio in a restaurant. Well, it's about figgin' time he spoke up about an incident that was barely an incident and everyone had forgotten about. Yeesh! 

Let us set the scene for you: it’s a balmy, humid night. A tall, beefy Italian man bursts through the door of a trendy Los Angeles restaurant on a white stallion, trumpets blaring, his partially unbuttoned white shirt clinging to his sweaty, tan physique. His windswept hair freely flowing in the polluted wind with a breathless beauty cradled in one arm, with the head of a romance novel critic on a sabre raised gallantly in the other. What’s that? No one is paying attention to the triumphant Fabio, oozing of sexual appeal for desperate women?

No, they’re not. The shutters meant for Fabio seem to be catching George Clooney and his girlfriend instead. You know. Someone people actually care about. 

That was roughly the scenario with a light sprinkling of dramatisation when George Clooney and Fabio engaged in a heated argument at a Los Angeles restaurant back in November. According to next month’s issue of Esquire magazine, the men were arguing because some of Fabio’s guests were taking pictures of George Clooney and his date. There were reports also at the time that George had called one of Fabio's guests a 'fat cow', and the two men apparently exchanged words. Not just any words, but angry words. Apparently, the men had to be physically separated.  

We’re not sure if the problem was that George didn’t like his privacy being violated, or if Fabio thought George was calling him a fat cow, but either way the argument may have erupted into an impromptu Celebrity Boxing match had not George Clooney taken what was probably a drunken moment to think about the consequences. Apparently, Fabio has said that he could take George Clooney in a fight. George Clooney shares his thoughts with us all about this in the Esquire interview: 

"Yeah, that's probably true. He's a big guy. There is a moment when you are actually in the argument and you're thinking, 'If I do get beaten down by Fabio, that will be far worse than the pain.’ I wouldn't shake that."  

No, Georgie, you wouldn’t. You’re already trying to shake the nasty residue of the Ocean’s Eleven sequels. You’ve got too much on your plate to add a Fabio arse whooping.

Read more: 

Clooney: I'm not 'gay, gay, gay,' just 'gay, gay' - Chicago Sun Times