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Naomi Campbell is reportedly dating Egyptian tobacco company boss Louis C Camilleri.The 47-year-old model is believed to have struck up a relationship with the wealthy businessman - who is also a director of Ferrari - after the pair met through their shared love of Formula One racing.
Inside the theater, the audience was very pumped to see C. He grew up in Newton, a suburb of Boston, so there was a strong homecoming vibe in the air.
"I tape two shows, and the first one feels lackluster and uninspired. It's the last night of three months on the road and the last time C. will ever perform this set: He scraps his act every year, forcing himself to start again. "If you write a book, you can't keep writing it." He's enjoying a deli sandwich, unfolding the greasy wax paper and digging in. K.'s crush on his FX sitcom, , is sitting nearby. He's fearless enough to follow his mind wherever it leads, but, beneath all the dejection and dick jokes, there's a deep moral seriousness to C. is a critically adored hit that blurs together cringe comedy, poignant drama, bathroom humor, slapstick gore and surrealist flights of fancy: It's impossible to say exactly what you're watching, and impossible to pull your eyes away. It's a deal he insisted on after years of seeing his outré ideas buffed down by writers'-room committee or squashed outright by meddling studios.
K.: He's a guy who desperately wants to do the right thing, even if he regularly messes up in the process. After 's second season wrapped this summer, C. (the initials are a rough phonetic rendering of his surname, Szekely) hit the road, selling out clubs, steadily building a meticulously crafted two-hour set that feels like an off-the-cuff confessional. K.'s count, it contains "about four raucous laughs" – his term for the hyperventilating, kick-the-seat-in-front-of-you, holy-grail eruptions he craves, the ones that make other laughs sound like background hum by comparison: "From the stage you feel this boom, this impact. was starting out, and he helped put together these New York shows.
There were so many comics they saw before anybody else knew their names, Denis Leary and Sam Kinison and Steven Wright and Bobcat Goldthwait... K., and they described the first time they saw him, when he was "still a teenager doing a bunch of weird experimental stuff." "He's better now," the slightly less morose of the two said, and this then led to a ritual listing, delivered in the flattest affect imaginable, of the various bits they admired most. (Probably NSFW, unless you work in some sort of clinic devoted to the intensive study of masturbation.) The next thing they told me I already knew, because I'd been reading a lot about C. recently and had spent some time talking with him, but these guys spoke with such gravity that it's only right to quote them: "He's not going to do any of those jokes tonight," the more morose guy said.
"Won't ever do them again.""Never repeats material," the other one added.