There is no doubt that Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are a match made in heaven, or maybe some small planet on the outskirts of the constellation Hubbard. Tom has been speaking to the New York Times Style magazine, a puny publication obsessed with the types of cloth in which these carbon-based life forms drape themselves. Tom gushed about his relationship as usual, even managing to jump upon metaphorical sofas in print form (and in the process almost protesting too much).

The creepy thing is that Holmes grew up with posters of Cruise on her walls, perhaps even spending a fair few nights alone with her eyes firmly on his image and her hands busy elsewhere. And the even creepier thing is that Tom appears to be well aware of this devotion. So, saddling up his galaxy-sized ego, he bought an engagement ring after their first date, just in case she proposed at the second meeting.

 

"At one point, I thought she was going to ask me to marry her first and I put her off by changing the subject. I wanted to ask her."

 

How romantic - he said 'ask' instead or 'order'. Further evidence of Tom's rampant self-love came when Katie confessed to him on the first date that she had dreamed of marrying him when she was growing up (i.e. too young to know better). He unfurled his best shit-eating grin to the interviewer and smarmed...

 

"I said I wouldn't want to disappoint her."

 

Lovely work, Tom. Of course there were rumours at the time that Cruise had flicked through a portfolio of actresses whose careers were on the wane and who would be prepared to put up with all types of nonsense (and varying degrees of loneliness in the bedroom) in order to further their career. It was alleged that he left a message on Jennifer Garner's answering machine asking her if she "knew what freedom was?" (are you listening, Garner? You were top of that list and you blew it, you stupid human! You stupid - and ironically free - human!). Or as Tom puts it...

 

"I knew I wanted to marry Kate when I met her."

 

Of course he did. He chose her, if rumours are to be believed, as if out of a catalogue. It's just like going to that Earth store Argos but with slightly more alien warlords thrown into volcanoes.

 

by Ian McShane