For my first blog post on this, my brand-spanking-new website, I thought I'd confess a nasty little secret. I'm sure plenty of us have a horrible little thing that we'd prefer others not know about us, haven't we?
This is mine: I read celebrity gossip pages and make thoroughly bitchy comments on the forums and message boards. You see, I loathe the notion of celebrity. It's essentially a way for people of no talent, breeding or intelligence to have a reason to get out of bed in the morning. It pisses me off beyond belief that these nonentities garner even a centimetre of media attention and are elevated any higher than a maggot feasting on the putrid corpse of a long-dead cat.
I'm aware my response to "them" (the celebrities) and "it" (the media attention lavished upon "them") say far more about my ineptitude at being able to "rise above it" (as my mother would say). I know it makes me pathetic for even deigning to comment, but I can't help it. I really and truly am powerless to prevent a reaction in the face of such blatant provocation.
The Daily Mail are the worst offenders. They employ an army of single-celled editorial staff to churn out oft-repeated stock phrases whenever one of the Kardashians goes shopping, or Rochelle from The Saturday's struts out in yet another vain attempt at convincing the general public that she's not, actually, a forty-five year old man in drag.
Gaaaaaah! There I go again, choking on my own bile. There's really only one thing that snaps me out of a particularly venomous bitching session - the sound of the key in the front door and Stu coming home from work. Like a secret bulimic trying to purge as quietly as possible after a big meal, I wipe the laptop history, push back from my desk with a smile and conceal my shameful habit.
Ah, sod it. At least I confine my verbal barbs to puppeteered popstrels, reality TV clowns and premiership footballers.
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