Imagine my despair this week as my favourite TV programme Ugly Betty despoils itself with Victoria Beckham as guest. I admit, a programme focussed upon the complete shallowness of celebrity culture could do no wrong by incorporating the epitomy of pointless celebrity, but I can't bear the fact that they've opened the door for the wretched former Spice to fulfill her American dream.
Why couldn't she feature in the Soprano's, preferably being driven in the trunk of Paulie's car to an "intervention" in the New Jersey woods. I'm not a misogynist, but I'd go Pay TV for that.
And thinking about it, was not Pia Zadora ahead of her time? Her sugar daddy paid a fortune to attempt to make her famous, because that's what it took back then. Had she been around now, well being married to a rich guy would suffice.
This equally applies to dreadful old shagged-out Rolling Stones parasite Marianne Faithful, who was one of the first pointless "famous for being famous" celebrities, who is sadly still treading the circuit doing her hackneyed old act on Britain's lesser radio stations, aware as she is that the attention span of the average up and coming radio producer is about three years, and that the mention of a drugged up old rock groupie who had photographic evidence of knowing some of the sixties movers and shakers is actually suffice to get yourself on air. And often.
Please make it stop.
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