For a week now, my mind has been reading in Ricky Gervais' voice. It's as though there's a small, white-shirted Ricky Gervais sitting in an office chair inside my head, reading Stephen King to me. My mind has imitated him so well that I'm frankly a little baffled.
But I'm not panicked. All I want to know, is how to coax Gervais out of there so I can move Jeremy Irons or Ralph Fiennes in...
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