Would the real Johnny Depp please stand up

By Charlotte Hofton - Friday, September 23, 2011



CONSIVERABLE distress has been inflicted upon the Island by a bloke who may or may not be Johnny Depp. The gorgeous superstar was reported to have visited us in July, which was all very exciting, particularly for females such as Laura Hedgecox who, believing she had served him in Ryde’s Chocolate Apothecary, was rendered "very giddy all afternoon".
As if this weren’t enough, there have been more recent sightings of the bloke who may or may not be Johnny Depp.
"I was sure it was him. I’m a big fan," said Danielle Parker-Meadows, who even had her picture taken with, well, who knows who it was?
There he is, cosying up with his arm around her, which is very nice for a woman if it’s Johnny Depp but not so hotsie-totsie if it’s an imposter.
Poor Danielle, supposing she’d had a close encounter with stardom, probably felt giddy all afternoon, just like Laura. Now they may both be sunk in gloom and who can blame them?
Pictures showing a clean-shaven Mr Depp in London, only hours before he apparently popped up on the Island with a moustache and beard, have cast a terrible shadow over our supposed celebrity coup.
Let this be a warning to women prone to giddiness. In my opinion, that is a particularly nasty little moustache and beard on the bloke who may or may not be Johnny Depp. Not at all the standard we expect of celebrity shaving chic. It should have put everybody on imposter-alert immediately.
On the other hand, can we be sure?
Perhaps Mr Depp had a moment of hirsute insanity. Perhaps the man in London was an imposter.
The Island needs answers. We cannot continue like this, with women not knowing whether to be giddy or thrown into Depp-deprived depression.
I have therefore taken it upon myself to help not just these unfortunate females but the whole Island. We need to know.
There are rumours Mr Depp may be house-hunting here. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? He could spend his entire time going round opening things, just like Alan Titchmarsh used to do before he cleared off back to Hampshire.
So far, my researches have led me to a couple of possibilities. One is the address of an office in the West Magnolia Suite, Burbank, California, where there is a woman who handles Mr Depp’s correspondence.
Unfortunately, her name is Mrs Spanky Taylor and I have thus had to eliminate her as a suitable lead. Neither I nor the County Press would dream of dealing with a woman called Spanky Taylor. And I can just imagine the decor in the West Magnolia Suite.
Moving swiftly on, we come to Mr Depp’s agent, Tracey Jacobs. She works at the United Talent Agency in Beverly Hills and there’s nothing she doesn’t know about her famous client. I have therefore e-mailed her and explained the IW is very upset and must be told at once whether or not it has Johnny-cred.
Inexplicably, I have received no reply. She may be off work with giddiness.
But I shall not give up. I have you in my sights, Ms Jacobs and I shall not rest until you respond.
In the meantime, girls, be wary. Just because a man has rodent-like bits of hair on his face and puts his arm round you for the camera, it doesn’t mean he’s Johnny Depp.