Evil Magazine: Exclusive Interview with Tanith Troy!

{From reading the descriptions of the main characters, you might be forgiven for thinking that Evil UnLtd (TM) is – Mr Ferret notwithstanding – very male-centric. To be fair, the gender jury is still out on Evil Robot, but I do tend to think of him as a ‘him’. See, I just did it. Rest assured though that the story does have a very strong female lead. Here, we focus the spotlight on Tanith Troy, not least because she insists that is precisely where the spotlight should always be focused.}

Cover girl TANITH TROY speaks EXCLUSIVELY to EVIL MAGAZINE on her glamorous movie star lifestyle, her terrible ordeal as a HOSTAGE and what’s next for the intergalactic SCREEN GODDESS.

Tanith Troy looks a million credits posing for our photographer on a rather romanesque chaise-longue, while her sense-monkey, Giorgio, helps himself to a choice of finest Bellesivian chocolates. Sense-monkeys are, of course, all the rage among young starlets wishing to retain their perfect figures while still sampling all the best carbs can offer, but it’s fair to say that Giorgio is quite a special little marmalade-coloured specimen and Tanith Troy is certainly a princess among movie starlets. You can see it in her sensuous smile and misty-eyed pleasure, as faithful Giorgio telepathically beams the full experience and taste sensation of the chocolate direct to his mistress.

Chocolate is better than sex, they say. And some say the chocolate is better second-hand. Well, starlets and supermodels say it anyway.

A break is taken in the exhausting shooting schedule, and Ms Troy beckons me forward, ready to grant this humble reporter an audience.

EM: What is it that the public love about Tanith Troy?

She appears not to have heard, perhaps lost in the delicious memory of the chocolate as Giorgio rolls the wrapper into a little ball and flicks it delicately at my nose.

EM: Ow. I said, what is it that the public love about Tanith Troy?

TT: Oh, I thought that was a rhetorical question. (Laughs.) Well, if not it should be. I mean, it’s fairly obvious. They love my wealth and looks and fabulous clothes, the lifestyle, the works. I’m a vessel for them, I suppose, through which they can live out their dream existence vicariously and find some escape from their shabby little lives.

EM: Er, yes, of course. But what about your detractors? There are a few people out there who are foolish enough to criticise you, labelling you as –

TT: Oh, all that ‘stuck-up’ diva nonsense? Dearie, even they love me. They’re exactly like the other lot – the fans – except the only way they have of filling their empty little day-to-day drudgefest is with moaning and complaining. Without me, they’d have no focus for all that bitching and, well, the best they could hope for is to get a pet that scratches their furniture or a lot of faulty electrical goods. Something like that. Giorgio!

At this point, Ms Troy clouts the little sense-monkey around the ear, just as he is about to select another confection. Ms Troy flinches too at the blow, of course, but her glare remains fiery and, it must be said, potently attractive.

TT: You know I despise orange cremes!

EM: Um, and what of your recent experience as a hostage in the unfortunate incident on Lucre Centris?

TT: Ha! Those idiots made a mistake when they took me.

I resist the urge to nod.

TT: Don’t you worry, I give as good as I get. (Pauses.) I know they say it’s better to give than receive and normally I would never subscribe to such a *ridiculous* notion. But when it comes to dishing out grief, believe me, I was more than willing to make an exception.

EM: So there was never any hint of Stockholm syndrome between you and your captors?

TT: Oh puh-lease. The closest thing to Stockholm going on there was when that Swedish meatball of a boyfriend of mine showed up. Oh. Oh. Oh.

EM: Get off you little sh-!

At this point, perhaps I should explain, dear little Giorgio had taken it upon himself to become overly familiar with my right leg. Ms Troy’s empathic convulsions were truly something to behold, or would have been had I not been busy trying to shake the furry little bugger off.

EM: So, um, sorry.

Giorgio, shunned, retreated to the chocolate box and sought consolation in a praline.

TT: I think we’d better make this the last question.

EM: Yes, yes, of course. Well, what people really want to know now is, what next for Tanith Troy?

TT: I’m afraid that would be telling. They’re going to have to wait until the book is out in the shops, aren’t they. Giorgio, that’s enough chocolates for you, you little sodlet.

And so I leave Ms Troy to return to her photo shoot as we retreat, gazing longingly at her curvaceous figure because I am a red-blooded male of a vaguely compatible species and simply cannot help myself. Until I remember that I need to wipe down my trouser leg.

Of course, you can find out more of the Tanith Troy story (as she’d wanted to call it) in Evil UnLtd (TM).

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