I recently became aware of a website and business that offers anyone the opportunity, at a cost, to become a 'celebrity for the day'. Apparently the service provides your own 'star' entourage, jet set lifestyle and even includes your very own intrusive paparazzi, presumably they will make an absolute nucence of themselves to neighbours, friends and family, so at least that is a well worthwhile expense, in my opinion.
This site could be a boon to all like myself who have decided to become a celebrity for a living although having to pay for the priveledge may somewhat defeat the objective.
I am still seeking a suitable subject for a 'best seller', as detailed in an earlier post, with which to launch my writing career. Having shared this trauma with the two brave insomniacs who may have read it I now feel encouraged to impart the anguish that I encountered when I decided to become a Celebrity' for a living.
My two sleep deficient readers may remember that I was encouraged to take up the pen or more accurately keyboard, with spell check, by my tennis playing friend Biddercome's foray into the world of literature "The Full English Breakfast". As I write he still is agonising about the merits of fried eggs above scrambled and whether, because he has a big match forthcoming in the veterans club championships, he should reduce his sausage intake to twenty-four a week.
My own efforts to come up with a subject matter to earn 'Nobel' accreditation thus stalled I decided instead once more on becoming a Celebrity' as the way to earn my fortune and pass the time until the literary muse finally decides to visit me. I have in the past reasoned that being a 'Celebrity' could not be so difficult and perversely you don't even have to be that well known or to have actually done anything of any worth to merit the title, well not in a vast majority of cases anyhow.
We in the UK as I am sure is the case in America and most countries of the World have a glut of reality TV programmes, a surplus of gossipy weekly magazines and a surfeit of trashy redtop newspapers all of which are populated with dozens, neigh thousands of 'Celebrities' that certainly no one of my acquaintance has ever heard of. Surely therefore there is room for one more person to sup at the table of fame, fortune and bad behaviour.
I decided to discuss my plans with my tennis playing, I use the term loosely, inner sanctum and did so after one Friday session. Spicer had just returned from two weeks in Egypt, his third holiday of the year, and was looking for a fairly elusive victory, last time he won flares were new on the fashion scene. This day he and I took on Simcock and Biddercome. We won the first set convincingly and were four games to one up in the second then years of supporting Tim Henman took effect and we snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. In fairness Spicer did strain his tan during the third set.
Once settled in the bar after the match I ventured to ask their advice about my new career plan as a 'Celebrity', strangely enough they saw nothing perverse in this. They have known me a long time! Biddercome asked if I hadn't become a Celebrity' last year. and Simcock stated that he was sure that there was some TV correspondence that I had received and vaguely remembered that we had discussed it after a few beers some months earlier. I said that Yes this was not the first time that I had taken the title 'Celebrity' and yes there was some television mail but this had in fact been a reminder from the TV licensing people and a communicae from Sky asking if I wished to subscribe to a further '74 unwatchable channels.'
Spicer actually then was quite astute by pointing out that my downfall in the past at becoming a Celebrity' was that the only people aware of my status were the four around the table and my family whom I had felt obliged to inform lest they were door stepped and harassed by the scribe from the Wharfedale Herald'. The big dentist, for that is what Spicer is, big and a dentist, pointed out that this lack of publicity could have been the reason for holding up the lucrative offers of work from programming executives and delaying the public the opportunity of seeing me stuff artichokes with Gordon Ramsey, dance with a chicken for Simon Cowell or go head to head (metaphorically speaking) with Mr Gay UK' and Edwina Curry in a variety of amusing reality TV specials.
Weighing up the implications of the effort needed to gain this added exposure I decided that maybe my decision to shelve the writing path may have been a bit hasty and perhaps I should try harder with uncovering a subject matter for my literary masterpiece. What about a study of this very phenomena "Please Big Brother I want to be a Celebrity get me into Here" I'll add it to the list of possible titles between "Barnsley Football Club" and "32 Recipes for Battered Mar's Bars".
After all working to become a Celebrity' wasn't what I had in mind. Was not being shallow, fickle, untalented and egocentric enough to achieve this goal after all it got Gordon Brown the job of Prime Minister, for the time being at least.
This site could be a boon to all like myself who have decided to become a celebrity for a living although having to pay for the priveledge may somewhat defeat the objective.
I am still seeking a suitable subject for a 'best seller', as detailed in an earlier post, with which to launch my writing career. Having shared this trauma with the two brave insomniacs who may have read it I now feel encouraged to impart the anguish that I encountered when I decided to become a Celebrity' for a living.
My two sleep deficient readers may remember that I was encouraged to take up the pen or more accurately keyboard, with spell check, by my tennis playing friend Biddercome's foray into the world of literature "The Full English Breakfast". As I write he still is agonising about the merits of fried eggs above scrambled and whether, because he has a big match forthcoming in the veterans club championships, he should reduce his sausage intake to twenty-four a week.
My own efforts to come up with a subject matter to earn 'Nobel' accreditation thus stalled I decided instead once more on becoming a Celebrity' as the way to earn my fortune and pass the time until the literary muse finally decides to visit me. I have in the past reasoned that being a 'Celebrity' could not be so difficult and perversely you don't even have to be that well known or to have actually done anything of any worth to merit the title, well not in a vast majority of cases anyhow.
We in the UK as I am sure is the case in America and most countries of the World have a glut of reality TV programmes, a surplus of gossipy weekly magazines and a surfeit of trashy redtop newspapers all of which are populated with dozens, neigh thousands of 'Celebrities' that certainly no one of my acquaintance has ever heard of. Surely therefore there is room for one more person to sup at the table of fame, fortune and bad behaviour.
I decided to discuss my plans with my tennis playing, I use the term loosely, inner sanctum and did so after one Friday session. Spicer had just returned from two weeks in Egypt, his third holiday of the year, and was looking for a fairly elusive victory, last time he won flares were new on the fashion scene. This day he and I took on Simcock and Biddercome. We won the first set convincingly and were four games to one up in the second then years of supporting Tim Henman took effect and we snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. In fairness Spicer did strain his tan during the third set.
Once settled in the bar after the match I ventured to ask their advice about my new career plan as a 'Celebrity', strangely enough they saw nothing perverse in this. They have known me a long time! Biddercome asked if I hadn't become a Celebrity' last year. and Simcock stated that he was sure that there was some TV correspondence that I had received and vaguely remembered that we had discussed it after a few beers some months earlier. I said that Yes this was not the first time that I had taken the title 'Celebrity' and yes there was some television mail but this had in fact been a reminder from the TV licensing people and a communicae from Sky asking if I wished to subscribe to a further '74 unwatchable channels.'
Spicer actually then was quite astute by pointing out that my downfall in the past at becoming a Celebrity' was that the only people aware of my status were the four around the table and my family whom I had felt obliged to inform lest they were door stepped and harassed by the scribe from the Wharfedale Herald'. The big dentist, for that is what Spicer is, big and a dentist, pointed out that this lack of publicity could have been the reason for holding up the lucrative offers of work from programming executives and delaying the public the opportunity of seeing me stuff artichokes with Gordon Ramsey, dance with a chicken for Simon Cowell or go head to head (metaphorically speaking) with Mr Gay UK' and Edwina Curry in a variety of amusing reality TV specials.
Weighing up the implications of the effort needed to gain this added exposure I decided that maybe my decision to shelve the writing path may have been a bit hasty and perhaps I should try harder with uncovering a subject matter for my literary masterpiece. What about a study of this very phenomena "Please Big Brother I want to be a Celebrity get me into Here" I'll add it to the list of possible titles between "Barnsley Football Club" and "32 Recipes for Battered Mar's Bars".
After all working to become a Celebrity' wasn't what I had in mind. Was not being shallow, fickle, untalented and egocentric enough to achieve this goal after all it got Gordon Brown the job of Prime Minister, for the time being at least.
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