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Last night my girlfriend accused me of being gay.  Not in a Stefan Posthma sense (Google it, but probably not at work), but in as far as she is convinced that I have an instant disliking for most successful women (i.e. those on television).  This is not true.  I have a disliking for most people.  Full stop.  

I’ve pretty much always been an angry, grumpy man (well, since my transition from boy to man, at least), and at the moment, with my shitted-up knee, I’m especially angry and grumpy and embittered.  I’m still hobbling around like an old fart, still struggling up stairs, still can’t walk far, still get the occasional twang if I try to, you know, move in a direction that isn’t straight forward.  I’m noticing that I’m more irritable than usual, which is why last night I got told off more than a few times for screaming at the television at two of my very least favourite celebrities.

I had a rant last week about X Factor, but what really grips my shit about that programme is that it seems to have propelled Cheryl Cole to “national treasure.”  This is the same Cheryl Cole who ended up in court after punching a toilet attendant (classy) in 2003.  But six years is a lifetime in celebrity culture, and Cheryl Cole has, fair play to her, crafted a new public persona for herself.  In the interest of fairness I must point out that I just find her annoying.  She’s a good singer, but fairly unremarkable.  She’s good looking, but unremarkably so.  It’s this complete mediocrity that offends me.  She’s neither a great singer nor particularly stunning (and don’t get me started on those tattoos), yet she is “a national treasure” and a role model to millions.  (It’s perhaps worth pointing out that she married a Premier League footballer.)

 

 

 

Cheryl Cole and her tasteful, understated body art

 

 

 

 

The thing I really hate about her is her complete insincerity.  She just seems so false.  She’s a role model to millions because she became famous overnight for having a pretty face and an OK voice and not having to EARN her fame.  Cheryl Cole does, however, have a talent.  There are far too many celebrities, however, that have no discernable talent.  I present to you the hideous, vacuous plastic waste of blood and organs that is Katie Price, aka Jordan.

Now, to call her stupid is technically incorrect.  I made the mistake of making this accusation to my boss.  He perhaps rightly pointed out that she’s not stupid because she’s worth about thirty million quid (a point: she isn’t worth £30million.  She may have £30million in the bank but she sure as fuck isn’t worth it).  It is a sad indictment on the modern world that this woman has managed to amass a £30m fortune and the adulation of a generation of kids.  This genuinely fucking saddens me.  And I absolutely fucking despise her.

This hatred was exacerbated a couple of years ago.  It was lunchtime, circa July 2008.  A couple of colleagues and I were in Nottingham, when we stumbled into WHSmiths.  We got the lift downstairs to be met by a heaving throng of people.  Cue lots of grumbling, What’s going on here then? etc.  I spotted a gap in the middle of the mass of people and pushed my way towards it.  I got into the empty space to be greeted by a security guard, screaming at me to GET BACK.  I ignored him.  Suddenly there was a commotion, “She’s coming!  She’s coming!”  The security guard threw himself at me and pinned me against a book stand, just as what looked like a prostitute with black, straw-like hair, anorexic-thin legs, inch-thick make-up failing to conceal her crater-face skin walked through the gap in the crowd.  It was Jordan, and it was simultaneously one of the most underwhelming and genuinely depressing moments of life as I witnessed hundreds of pre-pubescent girls screaming in delight at the sight of a former glamour model and generally-accepted example of How Not To Live One’s Life.

Where Cheryl Cole seems fake (to me, anyway — I accept I might be being harsh on her), Jordan most certainly is fake.  Maybe, at the end of this ill-thought-out rant, I actually don’t mind Cheryl Cole after all.  I find her insincere and condescending and I KNOW there’s a very nasty side to her that she’s constantly trying hard to suppress, but at least she can sing.  What can Jordan do exactly?  What has she done to amass a £30m fortune?  The woman’s a fucking car crash.  Every aspect of her life is whored out to the media, and once you sell your soul to the media you haven’t got a leg to stand on when it all gets a bit much and she wants a bit of privacy.  As for her current venture into the jungle, well, really, what the fuck was she thinking?  I hope the public keep voting for her to eat kangaroos’ arseholes and juggle angry cobras and she realises that we’ve all had enough of her, we all think she’s an annoying talentless wench and she should go away.

 

I have to go now as the nurse has arrived with my medicine.

(Oh, and sorry for the lack of fat jokes.  I lost three lbs this week, nine days after quitting running.  Go figure.  More fat jokes at my expense later this week.)

 

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