Paging Captain Delusion: I'm Talking to You, John Turturro

One of the greatest perks of being the writer/producer/director/chief egomaniac of your own TV show or movie is the opportunity to indulge your various delusions about your attractiveness to the opposite sex.

Think of Tina Fey casting buff, chiselled pretty-man James Marsden as Liz Lemon's 'Ken Doll' boyfriend Criss Cross in the later seasons of 30 Rock, or alleged serial pervert Woody Allen, who has spent a 40-year long career casting a whole host of luscious lovelies whom we are expected to believe would marry/fuck that creepy little troll without a moment's hesitation (or a soup tureen's worth of Rohypnol-laced champagne).

Similarly, Ms Lena Dunham had no problems casting a tasty bit of beige beefcake Patrick Wilson as her grown-up-boyfriend-for-a-day in the episode "One Man's Trash" in Season 2 of Girls - even if some viewers had problems watching it.

Clearly, it's good to be the King.

Nothing, however, comes close to the staggeringly unswallowable premise of Fading Gigolo, a film that invites paying audiences to believe that women played by the likes of Sharon Stone and Sofia Vergara would actually consider handing over their hard-earned green to be fucked by John Turturro. With the lights on. No paper bag. That's right, boys and girls, John Turturro. Or Barton Fink for those of you who remember the 90s.

John Turturro is a man you could charitably describe as 'having a character face' or 'what he lacks in conventional good looks he makes up for with charisma'. I am not so charitable. I will describe Mr Turturro the only way I know how:

'John Turturro has a face like a busted arsehole and a voice like an underwater fart through a clarinet. His head is easily re-purposed as a Brillo pad.'

No wait, I AM being charitable.

That a vanity project like Fading Gigolo can actually attract investors, distributors and art-house audiences (yeah, Torn and Silky - I'm talking to YOU!) is a sure sign that we have collectively lost the plot. But since Mr Turturro has gone to such lengths to revive his flagging career by throwing reason, good taste and credibility out the window, please consider the following variations on his delusional theme. And trust me when I tell you, I would actually pay to see these films:

Heavy Hooker

Rebel Wilson plays a transplanted Australian barista in Nolita whose coffee-shop "Have You Bean Downunder?" goes belly (sorry) up. She enlists the pimping service of bubbly retired transit cop Melissa McCarthy and has sex with The Two Ryans - both Reynolds AND Gosling. Separately AND AT THE SAME TIME. Throw in a nude twerking sequence set to "Blurred Lines" and we're good to go.

Venerable Courtesan

Kathy Bates is a retired sign-language teacher looking to supplement her meagre 401K by turning tricks with the help of her sprightly buddy Shirley Maclaine, and has sex with Dennis Quaid, Harrison Ford, Jeff Bridges, Kevin Costner and Denzel Washington. All of whom PAY HER for the privilege. James Caan makes a cameo appearance, but alas, is not tied to the bed and hobbled in a BDSM session gone wrong.

Portly Paramour

Kathleen Turner - as she looks now - is forced to close down her soft furnishings boutique after a Scandinavian design concept store (Kum Haard) moves into her chi-chi neighborhood and forces her out of business. Her best friend, Roseanne Barr, insists she pay her way out of bankruptcy by charging for sex. Which she does - with the likes of Tom Cruise, Bradley Cooper and Brad Pitt.

Film buffs' in-joke: William Hurt has a cameo as a cable-TV repairer who's caught watching Body Heat on her TV and wondering aloud about what happened to the actress.

There’s a free home-cooked lamb dinner for anyone who can get these ideas green-lit.

Your pitch time starts now.