It seem that poverty and terrible living conditions have succeeded where Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie failed, and that is to cheer the boy Brad the hell up.
The miserable pig ugly movie millionaire with rotten teeth, a broken nose, and absolutely zero prospects, admittedly has a lot to be down in the dumps about.
He's good mates with Bono for a start and married to a peculiar horse woman with a whole range of possible eating disorders. But that's neither here nor there.
Poor Pitt's really heavy-duty kick-ass bout of depression occurred in the nineties, when in between making multi-million dollar movies he had nothing to do but lounge about on a couch like a senseless sloth, smoke high-grade pot and get deeply irritated with himself.
Sounds like pure hell doesn't it? It was, as brave Brad candidly admits, "I was hiding from the celebrity thing. I was smoking way too much dope. I was sitting on the couch and just turning into a doughnut and I really got irritated with myself. I got to: 'What's the point? I know better than this.'"
We all know better Brad, but wait! It gets worse, a lot worse. The courageous A-lister revealed, "I was doing the same thing every night and numbing myself to sleep, the same routine. Couldn't wait to get home and hide out. But that feeling of unease was growing and one night I just said, 'This is a waste."
We all know how you feel Brad. The rest of us have a word for what you've just described, it's called work! But that's enough about us low lives and our lowly plebeian occupations, what we really want to know is how did Brad Pitt banished the blues and win his duel with depression?
He took a trip to Casablanca and the abject poverty he saw firsthand made him realise just how lucky he was, and hey presto, no more depression.
What a guy!
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