Cooper Brown: He's Out There

So my Amy Winehouse movie has finished shooting and we're in the edit almost straight away trying to get the thing together. If there's one thing that I love more than being on set it's being in an edit. On set you can play at being the big movie director and get your Winnebagos and riders and stuff but, at the end of the day, you still have to eat with the crew. And that sucks. In the edit you're left with only the top row of the production and you've fired everyone else so money is less of an issue as it's stopped pouring out of your account and you can start enjoying yourself.

Edit facilities are highly competitive in trying to attract customers so they try to outdo each other in the "perks" that they offer you. It starts with stupid stuff like unlimited bowls of candy and doughnuts on tap. Then it starts to get a bit weirder with table soccer, pool and, in one case, a wandering minstrel (he was quickly fired as the hangers-on in a Guy Ritchie edit started issuing death threats – the only time I've ever agreed with his crew).

The final frontier of edit-fun time is the narcotic menu. These are placed for all to see and you just have to ring a runner and off he goes to get you your desired stimulant. This is very bad for a friend of Pablo but it does keep me in the edit until the early hours of the morning and it's all free. Last night we're all crammed into our main edit, perusing the menu, munching doughnuts and talking about Anthony Minghella and what happened to him. There were all sorts of interesting theories flying about – none of which I'm even going to bother to write down as they'll be taken straight out by the lawyers.

So we're basically having a bit of a party and occasionally looking at some cuts but not really doing much when Rob, our edit assistant, bursts through the door all wide-eyed and breathless and tells us that Amy Winehouse is in the building in another edit. I have to admit that we're immediately paralysed by a feeling of huge fear as you sort of never know what the Winehouse might do – that's part of her weird appeal. We have a powwow and try to work out whether she'll find out about us. Everyone thinks not, but I know different. I always joke with Victoria that, were I more famous, and one of the tabloids did a "Cooper in three-in-a-bed-Pablo romp" story on me, neither of us would ever know, as we don't read those rags, and nor does anyone we know. The problem, however, is that there is always one little nosy prick who'll ring up to commiserate and blow the story.

I presume this is what happened, because about 10 minutes later we hear a huge commotion in the corridor and suddenly the door bursts open and there is the beehived monstrosity herself, and she is quite a sight. She's with a little gang of weird chicks that look like the stoners at my high school. They all tumble in and they're clearly in a cheeky mood. Winehouse shouts: "Which one of you fuckers is in charge of this piece of shit and how come you didn't ask me to be in it?" She laughs in a weird, throaty cackle and all her stoner mates laugh on cue.

I put my hand up and introduce myself and she's pretty cool, really. We show her some of the footage and she howls with laughter (I never said it was Citizen Kane), and she keeps going: "That's total bollocks, I'd never say that, oh how cheesy."

I hate to say it, though, but I kind of get the feeling she quite likes it, and I press home my advantage and ask her if she wants to appear in a cameo. She looks at me and, for a second, dollar signs are flashing before my eyes as I think she actually might be considering it. Then she tells me to fuck off and they all leave to go off to some squat in Hackney. Actually, probably her house. The one thing that is really left in the memory is how weird her skin is – it looks like some creature from another planet is trying to take control. Very weird scenes. Just another wonderful day in an edit. I ring Ben and we have a long Pablo chat about whether we'd "do" Winehouse. She is weirdly sexy but it's a no for me. Ben has a "dirty bird" fixation and says that he definitely would.

We end up going through a long fantasy list in which I express an interest in Paris Hilton, Natasha Kaplinsky and, in a very weird way, Hillary Clinton. Not all at the same time, of course. Ben pisses himself at my choices and tells me that he'd pay good money to see me and Hillary get it on. He's not joking, either, and she probably needs some campaign funds right now... Call me, Hill, let's do lunch.

McCain's going to totally walk the whole thing anyway while the Commies bash each other to death. He's consistently made the right choices and he's actually killed gooks – what more do you need in a president? Cooper Out.

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