Bring on Puss in Boots for God’s sake!

The widening of the media funnel, to allow more effluent than ever to wash up in our front rooms, like King Augeas' stables or, you know, a Sheffield sitting-room, has had the effect of democratizing celebrity to the extent that anyone can be a celebrity. Now, we need classification of celebrity, A list, B list and, er, the rest.

It probably didn’t used to be like that. Either you were famous, or you weren’t. If your fame went beyond your village, then your fame was probably deserved. Famous in your own village = a reputation for lifting cows or buggering ducks. Famous beyond your own village = sank an enemy fleet, with your breath.

Now, you have people who are famous, people who are ‘famous’, people who are stars, superstars, megastars and so on. I guess what it boils down to is this – if your name is above the title, or bigger on the book jacket than the title of the book – you’re famous. Anything else, you’re a celebrity, whether it means you act in a soap or did something amusing with marmite on a reality tee vee programme.

There’s nothing odd with people wanting to be famous – what is odd is that people appear to set their sights low these days and see real currency in being a celebrity. It’s shocking – people have realized that there is no way they can be Jack Nicholson (and let’s face it, it must be pretty hard being the sort of ageing, fat actor who’s finest moment was gurning like a drooling fool through a doorframe) so they want to be the sort of celebrity pictured dismounting from a limo with no knickers on – and that’s just the blokes.

The currency of celebrity of being spent at present by Boris ‘tosser’ Johnson, the shambling idiot that occasionally breaks cover as an MP long enough to make tactless remarks about grief while bending lithesome colleagues across his desk at the rag he ‘edits’. Many a journo has worried about being ‘spiked’ by Boris. Apparently he thinks that bumbling loonery and the occasional appearance on telly is enough for him to be considered a candidate as mayor of London.

Mayor…of London. So, Boris, what would your reaction be to a terrorist outrage in the capital? Getting a f**king haircut would be a start.

Boris is an excellent example of the media saying something so often: in this case – ‘he’s really clever’, that the addled twat must believe it himself. The problem is that we will now be subject to his deranged rantings during the election.

Still, I bet the media are loving it. Shame for Londoners – Ken will be re-elected no doubt, but it would be good to see the opposition parties put up a decent candidate, Dick Wittington’s cat, for instance?