It's one of my pet hates, it really is. It's just...nnnnghhh...just a moment.
Okay, I'm good...another breath, yup I'm better.
Celebrities - I'm talking about all those X Factor starlets, Big Brother Bimbos, Kiss-n-tell girls, Ex-boyband dropouts, and all the other z-list dittoheads out there. It's bad enough that most television bandwidth is filled up with these montrously vacuous morons, but in recent years they've started swamping bookstore shelf-width. I mean those biographies are one thing, but now....oh yes...now these eeejits are ''avin' a go' at writing novels.
I don't know what hacks me off more; the fact that these pampered airheads are stealing business from the mouths of kosher authors (you know, the dull people who don't whip their kit off on some reality show, who've taken years and years to learn the craft etc etc), or that they think writing a novel is a piece of piss...
...sumfin to ave a go at, know wot I meean?.....init.
It smacks of rampant selfishness and egotism, and flagrant contempt for books in general, that the likes of Naomi Campbell, Britney Speers, Katie Price...think they can casually dust off a typewriter and bang out a novel over a couple of Sunday afternoons. I mean fer crying out loud, they've already made their millions, but no that's not enough. No...they've also got to go and steal potential book sales from the like of us.
Actually I don't know if it's these bubblehead celebs, or the publishers - that prostrate themselves before them and splurge huge sums of hard-earned profit for the privilige of publishing their inane witterings - that anger me more.
Am I sounding bitter? I needed to get that off me chest. Better out than in as they say. It's just...you know, I can just about handle the idea that Jordan and Andre have had something vaguely interesting enough happen to them that it's worth putting into words in their autobiographies. But it's when these dunderheads cross the line, and start believing they can do anything...write a bestselling novel, compose a rock opera, invent a cure for cancer....ahem....act. That's when I find my hackles rising.
Uh now look...I've come out in my anger-rash...it's all up my arms and across my neck. I need to go lie down somewhere dark, and play some lift-music in my head.