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Until then, I’ll haunt the Sky channels looking for reruns of old reality shows, for I have indeed measured out my life by the tears of strangers. I spent the first night of my honeymoon in a palatial Sussex hotel weeping like a fiend because Nadia had just won Big Brother; indeed, one photo I took that night, ostensibly of my husband to commemorate the happy time, actually cuts the poor sod’s head off while over his shoulder Nadia is framed, frozen in her perfect moment for ever, emerging from the house, also in tears!
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So I’ll continue to cheer them on through my tears — and because it makes me so cross to hear them criticised as victims of instant celebrity syndrome, who’ve never done “a proper job” yet are rewarded with riches and fame just for being notorious. That’ll be unlike Camilla Parker Bowles, then — 57 years old, and never had a job of any description in her life except kneeling to the Clown Prince. Give me Jade Goody any day; more class, more graft.
Taken from
Why must I cry over people I don't know?
