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(Photo: Getty Images)

See this hideous visage? This freakishly lumpen fizzog, swollen and diseased with the pustulation of foul aging, a misshapen and pock-marked hag’s satchel of a mug? Well, this is the face that used to belong to Jude Law, handsome actor.

I know it’s a shock. It came as a shock to us too. One of the most famously attractive men in the world (give or take a wandering hairline or two), reduced to this lowly, disgusting state. Not only a shadow of his former self, but the sodden mattress hidden underneath that shadow, stained with rat droppings and old food.

To his credit, Jude is aware of his own decline. It would be awful if he were to parade himself around Hollywood as if he could still charm the fruit from the trees. Thankfully he’s got mirrors in his home that don’t lie, or break easily, and these have empowered the monstrous freak to give appropriately contrite interviews to publications such as T, The New York Times Style Magazine, in which his steep decline into full horrific hideosity is not only discussed, but fully addressed as a kind of positive life step.

He told them: “In a weird way, it’s kind of a relief to think, ‘Oh, I know I’m not that young sort of pretty thing anymore.’

“It’s quite nice talking about what it was like to be the young pretty thing, rather than being it.”

And somehow, rather than shunning the sunlight and walking around town after dark with a bag on his head,* Jude has actually found a way to make his new extreme repugnance pay the bills.

He continued: “Without sounding too pretentious, it’s difficult to remember that it’s an art form and you are, maybe, an artist and you have to make decisions on that level. I feel kind of more confident, more settled as a human being, more settled in my own skin… [When you’re older] you are allowed to be an actor, and the parts you get are more interesting.”

They would have to be, given that no one, literally NO ONE is going to want to see THAT FACE involved in any kind of romantic smooch. Can you imagine the rivers of popcorn sick in movie theaters across the world? The tiny rafts of pre-chewed nacho, riding the white-capped waves of regurgitated soda? Nobody wants to have to clean that mess up.

Here’s the trailer for his latest, Anna Karenina. Take a look, if you dare:

* Note: it’s not a bag, it’s a woolly hat.

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By Fraser McAlpine