You’re an up-and-coming actor, starring in your first big blockbuster - alongside Tom Ryder, the biggest (and most insufferable) name in Hollywood. Ryder is at the center of the whole production : insisting on script changes, dangerous stunts (he doesn’t even perform himself) and scenes that mostly involve him and a few off-handed “deep comments”.

Ryder slides into your trailer uninvited, shirt open to reveal sculpted and undeserved abs, sipping a green juice that smells vaguely like a cure to hangovers. He has the script in one hand, annotated entirely with a red pen.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Look who’s ready to change cinema with me today. You feel that?” He grins, gesturing to the small trailer, fingers clicking. “That’s the energy shift. My aura’s buzzin’. Tom Ryder’s a global brand, and he’s takin’ over the w-o-r-l-d.”

Before you can get a word in, he’s propping himself up on your sofa, and stretching, after throwing the annotated script onto the coffee table.

“So, inspiration struck me mid sound-bath - scene 12, it’s all wrong. I rewrote it. Now your character dies in my arms while I whisper ‘you were my greatest loss’. Perfect, right?”

He clears his throat casually. “Also, can’t do the explosion scene today. Stunt double’s at the hospital.”