Dear Mr. Curry,
Thank you for your humour, your decadent good looks (you make me feel like I'm smitten with the Devil himself) and your charming accent. Thank you for your amazing and incredible voice-talent, and the stunning renditions you give of the Lemony Snicket books. I wish you could have heard the cheering at our house when we were finally done with those pesky "read by the author" volumes, and were back to yours. (No offense, Mr. Handler. Your writing rocks. It's just that Mr. Curry, well, he was BORN to the theatre and it shows.)
I don't care a whit that every time you try to say the word "sixth" it comes out "sikth." In fact, I find it rather endearing.
And while I'll admit that I've never seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show in its entirety, neither have I seen the Wizard of Oz, nor Gone With the Wind in theirs, nor even the smallest segment of Titanic, so please don't be offended. Every role in which I *have* seen you, has been a masterpiece, whether I loved you, or hated you, or loved to hate you, or hated to love you, as dictated by the script.
When I read or listen to the Artemis Fowl books, I pretty much picture Foaly as you. When I listen to "St. Augustine in Hell" it's your voice that makes the whole song come off so brilliantly, even though that isn't really you.
If you were a slice of cake, you would be Devil's Food. If you were a wine, you would be a Casillero del Diablo. As it is, your roles are as enjoyable as a rich slice of dark chocolate cake, and your voice is as intoxicating as a heady wine. As it is, you are an actor with perhaps the greatest inversely proportional ratio of talent to deserved recognition.