From the desk of Clive Owen:

Hello, bitches. Did you know that I’m in Scotland right now? I was just sitting in my London home, thinking about how Scottish ladies needed a little taste of The Clive Goodness, and so I packed my favorite tuxedo and jetted off. Look at the way I’m standing by this little piano. Doesn’t that make you hot? Look at the smug expression on my face? That’s because I know you’re picturing me naked right now. Aren’t you? You’re imagining your tongue on my chest RIGHT NOW, aren’t you?

I’m used to that. That’s why I do these dorky photo-ops beside pianos. I want to see how far I can take My Sexy. By the way, Prince Charles is around here somewhere. He’s wearing a kilt, for God’s sake. Do you know what would happen if I wore a kilt? Ladies would be dropping like flies. They would be crawling on the floor trying get a look at my biscuits. And that, ladies, is why I don’t wear kilts. Only tuxedos and suits for me, but I do make an effort to look dorky, just to see what I can get away with. As it turns out, I can do pretty much anything and ladies will still throw their panties at me in the street. I could do a duet with Justin Bieber and still get laid by a different woman every day for the next twenty years. But I don’t want that – I’m happily married. I have two daughters as well. I’m very happy. So all of this – the photos, The Sexy, the smug, dirty, awesome little smile playing on my lips, my slightly disheveled hair, looking like I just threw this tux on right after a naughty go-round, without even having the time or inclination to put on a pair of boxers – well, that’s all for you. Because I am a humanitarian.

You’re welcome.

Love, Clive

P.S. Did you want a preview of my sexy Bulgari ads, or are you already nearing a Clive Coma? Because I can wait to show you… no? Okay, here’s a little taste. You might need to get a towel.

Clive Owen on Sept. 5, 2010. Credit: Bauer-Griffin. Bulgari ads courtesy of Clive‘s fansite, Clive-Owen.org.