We need to talk about Johnny Depp

Johnny Depp. Jooohh-honnny Depp. If you’ve got a pulse, and you’ve had one for the past 35 years or so, chances are Johnny Depp played a pivotal role in your burgeoning sexuality.

From smouldering man candy hanging off Kate Moss’ arm to rum-soaked guy-linered pirate, most of us have had a sex dream about Johnny Depp. Amirite? And Dream Johnny Depp is, if anything, filthier than the real deal.

But something has gone wrong. Something terrible has happened. And we need to talk about it.

This is Johnny Depp, 52, at the Toronto International Film Festival earlier this week. He’s wearing… well, you can see it with your own eyes, but just in case the image isn’t processing properly up your optic nerve, yes: those are the same ‘distressed’ relaxed-fit jeans that your mum bought your dad that time he had that midlife crisis.

And he’s paired it with unpolished black shoes, the type townie boys think they have to wear to get into clubs because they’re vaguely smart.

With the exception of that shirt, the rest of his outfit is essentially what we wore when we were going through that French cinema phase at sixth form. How did it end up on Johnny Depp’s body?

The ONLY explanation we can find is that somehow – somehow – Johnny’s girlfriend Amber Heard, 29, is stealing his life force through osmosis.

…She’d also be having to steal all his clothes and force him to paw through the donations left outside charity shops in the dead of night too, to be fair.

Right, someone page George Clooney. He’s the only one who can fix this now.

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