Open letter to my hero

Dear Tom,

We both know that's not your name, but I don't want to get sued, so let's call you Tom, in memory of my last doomed love affair. Although, since you're American, let's pronounce it Tahm.

I am not asking you to marry me. I think the M word probably sends shivers up your spine these days. So let's start with a coffee, take it from there.

Because, here's the thing. I think you might find me valuable.

The more I read about you, the more I think it unfair, tragically unfortunate even, that you were born 20 years before me into a nation separated from mine by hundreds of miles, an ocean, and a common language, and into a destiny that will no doubt keep us apart.

You are passionate, articulate, intelligent, talented, generous. You love words. You make time for people.

You understand the importance of coffee.

You are a devoted father. I'm guessing the last thing you want is more kids, and that's fine. The whole pregnancy and birth thing freaks me out anyway. Let your children be the recipients of the reserves of love that I long to give.

You read a book a week. You write a thousand words a day.

Imagine the Scrabble games we could have.

I am not, or no longer, the kind of woman who needs constant entertainment, and so imagine rainy Sunday afternoons curled up together with our novels, interrupted only by coffee, fresh juice and perhaps some physical exercise. Imagine, too, the conversations: inspiring and energising as they so often are between bookworms.

We could take turns reading out our writing and help each other to find synonyms and new ways to convey old truths. We could work on a screenplay together, cast all our best friends in the movie, give Josh Malina the role of a lifetime. You could make me laugh with your witty one-liners and I could correct your spelling mistakes. Except that I have the feeling that you don't make any, apart from the usual American ones.

And when we're not doing any of that and you're not working - and I love your work, you know that - maybe we could run a political consultancy. Or campaign together to get Obama re-elected. You could teach me all there is to know about American politics. I think you would secretly quite enjoy that.

Can you honestly tell me that does not sound like fun?

Buy me that coffee and convince me.

Keywords, blogs, and yes, Bradley Whitford...

Time was 90% of people found my blog through two keywords, "Bradley Whitford" and "Janel Moloney". Shocking, I know. I don't know what happened there.

I'm happy to report that my readers have now diversified. Not only do I get references to, respectively, moustaches and pregnancies, I also get wider references to the West Wing and even, occasionally, to entirely different things.

On the moustache (and for the person who asked "why does Bradley Whitford look different"), briefly: yes, he has one, no, I don't like it, but yes, I understand his artistic choice of the accessory. I just hope he was joking in a recent interview when he said he was going to keep it.

On the pregnancy: Janel and her film composer husband now have a beautiful baby boy. This makes me smile for several reasons.

One, that I'm sure she is happy, and that's only fair after she spent so many years of my life bringing me joy. Although, I don't think she did it just for me, but when I eventually meet her I will verify that. Meeting a certain Other Famous Actress recently has made me realise I don't want to meet Janel unless she's going to be nice to me and allow me to gush at least a little about how much I love her, but that's another story.

Two, we have even more in common than I thought. "Is that possible?" I hear you cry, what with my blondeness, slimness, legginess and incredible talent for the perfoming arts. Ahem.

Aside from all those things which we do not share, there is one thing: when asked what she hoped for in season 5 of the West Wing: "Any chance to make out with Brad Whitford, that would be great". Incidentally, she reports that he is a great kisser. Well, yes.

Anyway, I digress. But we do have this in common: I once almost-dated a wannabe film composer. Okay, so I didn't marry him, and I think he's ended up working for a bank, but when I say almost-dated I mean that I was madly in love with him (I think it was mutual) and probably would have married him had circumstances been right, and he is a gifted musician who may still make it one day.

The other is that had I been a boy, I would have had the same name as Janel's son. Well, my mum told me that once, but then she's also told me I narrowly avoided being called Scarlet, and it turns out it wasn't really that narrow after all. Still, I'm sticking to my story, though I don't really see where the conversation could go after "I was nearly called that".

So, there you go. That's that story. You heard it here first, except probably not.

Sticking with the Brad theme for now, I think my favourite recent keyword was "Is Bradley Whitfield a Democrat?" I assume they mean him, and since they don't really know his name all that well, they can be forgiven for not knowing that the question is actually a far classier and more original version of "Is the sky blue?" or "Is the Pope a Catholic?". One which I may, in fact, start using, if nothing else because the sky is hardly ever blue where I live.

It also makes my little heart glad that people are typing in "Josh Malina Bradley Whitford" and, most excitingly, "Brad Whitford Josh Malina twitter comments", because I invented that particular genre of tweeting. Yes, the first time I ever had a tweet from Josh Malina (which had my jumping up and down with glee) was in response to one of mine. "Bradley Whitford," he said, "Is a hateful man whose career is receding faster than his hairline." Ouch, but very funny. People have been baiting him no end since, and I think it's distressing in the extreme that Brad is not on twitter to defend himself and fight back.

Anyway. There's plenty more where all that came from - like "email address for Janel Moloney" - oh, to have that information, which I would most certainly not broadcast. But I feel flattered that my blog was where Google thought people should come for that information.

It's late, though, so you'll have to wait - on the edge of your seats, no doubt.