Saturday, May 28, 2005


With Big Brother getting underway last night on Channel 4, the music would would have to come up with something pretty special to draw the tabloid's attentions away from the self-loving self-abasers. What could it do?

Sending Victoria Beckham and David off on a six-hour bender seems to have done it. It's not clear why they went out for the non-stop sip-slop, although perhaps they were celebrating the Spice Girls reunion - at long last, Victoria's in with a shout of not being the worst singer on a record again (Double check that Geri's definite, yes?); or maybe they were trying to make the most of Happy Hours before they disappear in a bid to control binge drinking. Not, of course, with all their cash from endorsing any old shit that will pay them, they need to restrict themselves to drinking while you can get bottles for a quid.

Perhaps, though, they were just drinking to numb the pain of being rich and famous. It's not all it's cracked up to be, you know. The latest celeb to moan about how it really sucks is, um, Cliff Richard, bitching to the Daily Express about the "vicious price of fame":

You can understand Cliff being so hurt by fame - just think, if he hadn't earned all those thousands and thousands of pounds, he might never have found himself owning that Carribean hideaway and inviting Tony Blair to stay. Curse fame, for without it, Cliff would have been free to get a miserable job, enjoyed the struggles of being caught in the Tory unemployment boom of the 1980s, and spent sleepless nights worrying about how he might find the rent for the month. You are such a cruel mistress, Dame Fortune.


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