CELEBRITIES. Look, look, look, Kim Kardashian is pouring her curves into a dress.
Look, look, look, Kelly Brook is pouring her curves into a dress.
Look, look, look someone else better than you is having a better life than you. Mark Wright is eating a sandwich in red chinos. You’re rubbish and don’t have enough money for chinos. Kill yourself.
Celebrity culture is a massive business and a massive pain up the backside pipe. It takes the inane, makes it acceptable and makes you depressed. Natasha Giggs is wearing geek-chic glasses.
There's magazines in their hundreds, solely devoted to what they're doing, what they're wearing, what they're eating. Who they're having sex with, who they're not having sex with, whether they push their cuticles down.
Lindsay Lohan looks older than 25 with her pale skin. But she’s probably having more sex than you and her cuticles are perfect. Shut up podgy fingers, it’s true.
One of those pushing celebrities into every conceivable orifice of the nation's consciousness, like some disgusting sandwich paste, is Max Clifford.
That well-known celebrity-loving, grey-haired bloke who takes up the cause of those in need of a career boost. Frankie Sanford is wearing a patterned scarf. Buy one you idiot, you look drab and dull and will never find a husband.
So it was with much shock that when Mr Clifford, who looks a bit like a badger with a sun tan, appeared before the Leveson inquiry into press standards on Thursday, he told the committee that it was unhealthy that celebrities have such an influence over young people. Natalie Cassidy has had a haircut. She’s a great mum. You’re terrible and your hair looks drab.
Anyway, it's sad, he said, because so many celebrities are famous when they clearly have "no talent at all," adding that celebrity culture is "much to do about very little".
Max’s clients included:
Stacey Solomon: Fast-talking, incomprehensible girl from Essex who wants you to buy frozen chicken from Iceland in case your family comes round and wants some chicken for dinner. Let’s have a party, I’ve got mini quiches.
Lauren Goodger: Sometimes fat, sometimes thin. A girl from Essex whose main skill is being mundane and sometimes fat and sometimes thin. Talking about being fat or thin openly and honestly in magazines and on chat shows.
Kerry Katona: See Lauren Goodger but add a public battle with drugs to the mix (add Stacey Solomon to Kerry when *she* was the mum who went to Iceland). Numerous reality shows where she talks about battling drugs, her weight, her depression. Blah, blah, blaaaahhhhhhhh. Let's have a party, I've got tiny frozen cakes.
Rebecca Loos: Tossed off a pig and wore a bra for photographers. Sometimes cries about David Beckham in magazines and on television. Appears on "top 100" programmes saying words like: "Yeah, I mean 2011, who can forget it? It was like, a year."
Imogen Thomas: Was on Big Brother, got her jugs out for the boys, had an affair with Ryan Giggs and is now pictured frequently doing some kind of fitness thing or not wearing clothes. Sometimes she talks about her fears of going bald through stress.
So what have we learnt?
Tossing off a pig, having an affair, giving birth, being fat, doing drugs, being thin, smiling at mini quiches and selling frozen chicken is the future of popular culture. Anyone with an ounce of talent can go swivel, while those who can't even solve Iggle Piggle's "10-piece puzzle conundrum" take over the world.
Their every waking action, reaction and stupid comments and lives are beamed into our eyeballs, slowly melting our brains into a mush that looks like a pile of peas covered in the contents of a dog foul bin.
Now go and sit in a chair and think about what you've done.
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