Thursday, 8 January 2015

Are we becoming celebrity clones?

Like them or loathe them, they're here! No, not Gremlins, celebrities......triple Z-list celebrities to be precise. Although somebody must have made the mistake of feeding one of them after midnight as they're unquantifiably multiplying in a pool of Z list unholy dirty water. If this were to happen to immigrants, Nigel Farrage would go into coronary arrest. Celebrities, let's call them figureheads; for want of a better word, used to be the world leaders, messiahs, the prophets, the nobel prize winners, the scientists, sculptors, painters, architects, composers, inventors and only the finest athletes.

Celebrity status has now degenerated to such a degree, even bloggers can become famous. Not me, I'm above all that anyway, I'm above all that fame shit, hence why I've remained low-key, despite my obvious genius.

We aspire to be anybody that's anyone that dons a fake tan, adorns a plethora of tattoos and can show off a set of blindingly white veneered gnashers. Never before have people tried so hard to look the same. Never before have celebrities dominated the forefront of our lives and consciousness to this degree.

There's not enough enough room on our screens for them anymore, despite the fact we have an ever-increasing raft of channels to choose from. Every programme is like a Sergeant Peppers Lonely Heart Club album cover, awash with faces we vaguely recognise, but in general, don't like very much. All trying to squeeze their overly pampered and narcissistic selves in for as much exposure as they can possibly manage. So long as their blotchy orange carcass is on camera for more than a millisecond, they get an appearance fee.

It seems the only way they can all be all be catered for and manage to carry out their contractual obligations to their particular broadcaster, is to wipe out the concept of ordinary people taking part in quiz shows, for example. Programmes like Family Fortunes, used to be 'played' by normal, common working people. Some of the stupidity on show brought about some classic moments and you couldn't help but feeling genuinely happy for people when they won. Seeing the Shackleton's who'd travelled all the way up from Dorset winning £305, a Casio watch and a shellsuit for each family member would bring a tear to your eye.

Looking back now, it seems almost inconceivable that the general public were let loose on national television. It brought about candid moments that would stick out like a sore thumb in this era of political correctness. The focal point of these shows, the presenters, would usually intentionally, infinitely exacerbate any embarrassing situation. Most of those presenters turned out to be convicted rapists, sexual offenders and even the ones who weren't convicted of anything would usually find themselves in hot water, branded and tarnished for life. See: John Leslie, Wheel of Fortune. How times have changed.

Soon enough, there'll be more celebrities than non-celebrities. It's getting increasingly difficult to distinguish between the two anyway, such is the clamour to look like them, wear what they wear, act how they act and have whatever they have. Maybe we can eradicate unemployment in this country by picking anyone out of the dole queue who resembles a celebrity and turn them into a look-a-like for parties, or wherever people in that industry get hired to wander around like a possessed wax-work.

The ones who get left behind can work as their agents, problem solved. I don't know who I'd end up being used as a look-a-like for. I'm constantly told I look like different people, it's usually derogatory too. The last comparison test I was forced to endure, ended with me being labelled as resembling Dot Cotton with an incurable disease, due to the fact I'd lost a little weight. Most people get complimented on losing some timber, I get lambasted and vehemently insulted......then people wonder why I'm dead inside.

Perhaps they could find work on celebrity game shows when something crops up and said celeb can't make it to set. We might end up in a bizarre paradox when we all become a celebrity, as one. Not so much a 15 minutes of fame scenario but an all-encompassing dream like vision, where the general public and celebrity circuit merge into one, what will we do then? Who will aspire to be who? What will Simon Cowell do when he realises fame doesn't exist anymore, only life, and being? Perhaps we're heading in the right direction afterall.

Toodle pip.

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