Saturday 22nd October
A you know, I quite despair of Celebrity Culture, the way it has of pervading and infiltrating its’ tentacles into every aspect of your life, from Strictly Come Dancing to items on the News, from late night chat shows to their very own Celebrity magazines. Of course I never buy them, never even consider it, in fact I rarely, if ever, buy a magazine at all, let alone inhabit what used to be called newsagents, but are rapidly metamorphosing into convenience stores or Tesco Metros; that old staple of Newsagent, Tobacconist and Confectioner disappearing fast. I do subscribe to Paris Match, which I do not enjoy so much as I used to I am afraid, I just cannot quite let it go that’s all, and Elle (French version); I do like to keep up my with my French, but have little opportunity nowadays to speak it. Those, along with the Telegraph and the Mail, (though I am seriously consider stopping the latter which is sinking downmarket faster than the Titanic) and the Saturday and Sunday Times at weekends are sufficient for my needs. I did try the ‘i’ when it first came out but realised that the précis they presented me with merely whetted rather than satisfied my appetite for news.
I find however that when I am on the tube I cannot stop myself from picking up a discarded tabloid, especially if it is the Mirror or the Sun, and I recognise Grandma in myself, as I tut-tut and shake my head in disbelief, as I am reassured rather than horrified, at just how awful they actually are. The only good news of late is that they are suffering from a massive fall in circulation, even steeper than that of the broadsheets.
And in the Dentists I find it hard to resist glancing at Heat or Closer or whatever they are called; I say glancing at, because they are so full of photo’s and adverts that there is precious little there to actually read. Besides it is all an advert really, if not for products then for some imaginary lifestyle we are supposed to envy, and what I find particularly sickening is when these so called celebrities, most of whom I really cannot place, ‘invite’ the cameras into their pristine soul-less homes. I mean, how vulgar, you might as well ask them to look at your lavatory!!!
Is this supposed to represent some sort of democracy, or is it like that silly little rhyme we used to recite at school – “Pigs will spill pigswill ‘coz pigs will swill pigswill.” Not very nice I suppose, but then I have never pretended to be, which is more than can be said for these so-called celebrities.