The definition of ‘celebrity’ has been debased in recent years
Where it once was associated with glamour, talent and fame, now it is claimed by every low-rent poseur, wannabe and talentless idiot.
The rise of reality TV has given them a platform far beyond the four walls of their local nightclub.
They are famous for being famous.
They are self-centred, vacant, crude, obnoxious and are riddled with vanity.
And that’s their good points.
They are pandered to by a raft of magazines which make them cover stars and affords them the gold-plated, five-star status of instant recognition via only their Christian name. Truly they are the one-name nonentities.
Standing at the supermarket check-outs is now an education as I read of their heartache, their weight gain, their amazing diet achieved in seven days by doing nothing at all, how they have/haven’t cheated or been cheated on, and how their pals are rallying round or being utterly disloyal.
And I want to scream WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE!
And why do we even care what is happening in their tediously irrelevant lives?
And then I switch on ‘Celebrity’ Big Brother and suddenly it makes perfect sense.
They have finally found their dream home.
It’s a compound in which they are locked away but they are still able to show off 24 hours a day to an audience that watches online, live on air, and then they are the subjects of the most banal, witless discussions ever staged in a TV studio.
Our brains are surely withering to mulch as we tune into this nonsense.
The days when Big Brother was a genuinely ground- breaking show we all talked about the next day have gone.
Now it’s a freak show filled with wannabes and has-beens whose only route to fame and a few grubby quid is to sell every aspect of their lives to magazines which reckon they can shift a few copies by injecting some hint of drama into the stories.
Every week they have manufactured showdowns, breakdowns and ultimatums to sucker the readers.
But those shallow, two dimensional subjects aren’t worth a single line of text let alone the glossy spread of pictures they are complicit in setting up to keep the money rolling in.
That vulgarity doesn’t stop at the pay check though.
I watched the profiles of each Big Brother housemate with increasing dismay.
The language was base. One guy seemed to be there because of his trademark skill which was simply shouting ‘BOOM!’ very loudly – boy he’ll be fun to live with 24/7,– two gave one digit salutes to the camera, while one claimed she had the “best looking vagina in Newcastle”.
Who knew such a competition even existed, but I’m sure her parents and family must be so proud of the certificate hanging above the mantlepiece. Please tell me it doesn’t have a picture.
Even by Big Brother’s ghastly, borderline gross past, this surely was a new low, and if this is the benchmark for celebrity in 2016 then it’s time we did what would hurt them more than anything. Switch off.