This is a satirical day in Orlando Bloom's life. You can read about his actual (bizarre) daily routine here. 

It’s 6.30am. 

Katy is asleep beside me because she’s been up all night feeding our seven-month-old daughter. Still, I’m annoyed. I only got seven and a half hours sleep and Katy knows my sleep tracker likes me to get at least eight. If I don’t it goes into the orange zone instead of the green zone and that gives me a sense of discomfort I don’t appreciate.

As I get up, I hear Daisy’s cries coming from the other end of our 17-bedroom home. I can’t remember which one she’s in. Eventually, I find her and pat her gently while smiling, but she’s screaming and it’s honestly quite rude. It’s time for my morning chant and it can’t wait. 

I decide if I chant loud enough it will a) wake up Katy so she can tend to the baby, and b) drown out the sound of the crying. So I chant for a solid 20 minutes, without taking a breath. When Katy finds me she tells me our seven-month-old is more mature than I am, and I explain that that’s ridiculous. Daisy isn’t nearly clever enough to have thought of this ploy. 

After my chants, it’s time for me to read some Buddhist texts and yes, I obviously add them to my Instagram stories. I’d like it noted that this is the ONLY time I look at my phone in the morning because I don’t want to get sucked into a social media black hole that involves, for example, turning your religious beliefs into something performative.

That would be ridiculous. 

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It’s time for breakfast and while no one’s looking, I shovel Coco Pops into my mouth by the handful. But there’s someone writing about my daily routine today so I go to the very back of the cupboard and find the weirdest ingredients I can. 

Na honestly, wtf is ‘brain octane oil’. Someone is taking the piss and deserves to be sued. 

Anyway, I pretend I eat (drink? Smoke? Inhale?) it, along with ‘collagen powder’ and some protein. I spit some line about ‘earning’ breakfast and if anyone knows what I’m talking about please tell me because I do not.

HIKE TIME. 

I go for a hike, and I know what you’re thinking:

Again: the baby. 

How’s she... doin.

And my response is... 

I return home in a hurry. 

At 9am (why has it been a day but it’s only 9am) it’s time for my actual breakfast and I'm really fkn hungry after that weird concoction I had to consume earlier. 

I usually have porridge, but in an effort to seem interesting I add hazelnut milk (how do you milk a hazelnut), cinnamon, vanilla paste, hazelnuts, goji berries, and a vegan protein powder. Yeah, it ruins my porridge. 

I tell the interviewer that I eat 90 per cent plant-based now, because sometimes I look at cows and think they're beautiful. 

I lie. 

What. 

Have you looked at a cow lately? 

Dear God your eyes. Your EARS. But mostly your... tongue.  Cute, yes. Beautiful... no.

AGH. Sir. I immediately regret the comment about the cows. I hope the fact-checker picks it up and removes it. 

After I recover from the trauma of the fact that I referred to cows as 'beautiful,' it's time to get to work. 

At 11am. 

I currently have a deal with Amazon Prime where I work on projects exclusively for them. Obviously, I'm thinking very much about what roles would suit me, but I keep getting knocked down? I put myself forward as the lead for Little Fires Everywhere (which went to Reese Witherspoon) AND The Marvelous Mrs Maisel (Rachel Brosnahan... really), but apparently my 'creative vision' is 'confusing'. 

Whatever. 

I'd also like it on the record that while I'm dreaming about roles for myself, I'm also dreaming about roles for minorities and women. If you could put that on the record. Write that down. Please.

I also dip in and out of LEGO, so after 45 minutes of work, I start building. 

Daisy tries to play but I tell her LEGO isn't for babies, it's only for grown men. 

Yeah, I'm building fake cars out of blocks made for children. And it's an exceptionally good use of my time. 

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By the time I look at the clock, it's time for Daisy to go to bed. Honestly, babies are so easy. I'm not even sure what she does all day! But I give her a very important kiss on the forehead, before having my dinner cooked for me by a team of professionals. 

As it approaches 11pm, I get antsy, because I know I have to be asleep soon in order to get my eight hours. 

But as my head hits the pillow, I realise: it's okay, you can sleep in until seven. You might just have to limit yourself to 10 minutes of chanting. 

Feature Image: @orlandobloom Instagram.