Nail meet head. The physical site of Allen disgusts me. He is a mouse of a man.
Orson Wells hated Woody Allen. In a 1983 interview he said of him:
O.W.: I hate Woody Allen physically, I dislike that kind of man.
Interviewer: I’ve never understood why. Have you met him?
O.W.: Oh, yes. I can hardly bear to talk to him. He has the Chaplin disease. That particular combination of arrogance and timidity sets my teeth on edge.
Interviewer: He’s not arrogant; he’s shy.
O.W.: He is arrogant. Like all people with timid personalities, his arrogance is unlimited. Anybody who speaks quietly and shrivels up in company is unbelievably arrogant. He acts shy, but he’s not. He’s scared. He hates himself, and he loves himself, a very tense situation. It’s people like me who have to carry on and pretend to be modest. To me, it’s the most embarrassing thing in the world—a man who presents himself at his worst to get laughs, in order to free himself from his hang-ups. Everything he does on the screen is therapeutic.