It seems that at yesterday’s Wimbledon finals the rest of Hollywood ditched out and forget to tell Woody Allen and Russell Crowe. The two men ended up sitting a row apart, and judging from this photo were avoiding the inevitable “we’re both famous, I guess we have to acknowledge each other” conversation.

If they did even talk, I see it going one of two ways:

Russell: “I’m a big fan, Mr. Allen. I’d love to work with you one of these days, mate. Shall we discuss it over some beers?”
Woody: “Well, I just so happen to have a script about a neurotic undercover cop in Brooklyn who plays by his own rules but can’t seem to work out his relationship with a sexy but equally neurotic dental hygienist. You’d be perfect.”

That, or:

Woody: “Hello, Russell. I loved your work in 3:10 to Yuma. I’ve actually been working on a script about a Jewish cowboy–”
Russell: “Can it, nerd. Either watch the match or I’ll pound your face. And give me Scarlett Johansson’s number. I don’t care if she’s married.”

Ok, your turn.