Maybe it’s because of social media, or maybe it’s simply due to a variety of sociological changes over time, but the world of celebrity seems to delve ever-deeper lows.
When I was a teenager, I remember buying magazines like Sky. There would be a celebrity on the cover but they usually had their clothes on. If they didn’t, then it would be a tasteful nude shot, normally black and white, and more a glimpse as opposed to Kim Kardashian’s oiled buttocks bursting forth from a human-sized champagne glass in order to #breaktheinternet.
‘Celebrity’ used to have more mystique about it. There was something a little mythical about classic icons such as Audrey Hepburn, or even, fast-forwarding, the supermodels of the 1990s. For starters, you didn’t know what Cindy Crawford’s cervix looked like.
The very thought of Audrey et al oiling up their butt-cheeks is laughable, and even though you can argue that Marilyn posed in a mighty provocative manner, that’s my point exactly – it was provocative, tantalizing, teasing. What it was not, was crass, or slutty, or blatant. Nor was it at the fingertips of a squillion impressionable young boys and girls, thanks to their phones and laptops. Because there is the other issue – the audience at which these pictures are aimed.
The Pirelli calendars that began back in 1964 were aimed at your dad. Mainly for him to hide in the shed with. Today’s non-artistic equivalents are available for 11 year olds to peruse at their leisure between lessons. How on earth can this be doing anything other than damaging self-esteem, society, and what is perceived as appropriate by all who see them? Are we not indoctrinating a whole new generation of people to believe that it’s perfectly normal to splay yourself open for the world to see?
There seems to be no line any longer, nothing that is left to be crossed, nor any boundaries left to push. We are functioning at the hands of self-obsessed twits, famous for little other than having massive bank balances, buttocks and boobs, and shriveled little brains cocooned in their gigantic air-filled heads.
The day I tried to break into a car with an axe…
My husband and I have purchased a very heavy, tree-felling axe. Not for purposes of recreation, but because we have a wood-burning stove and are chopping logs in preparation for autumn.
It was mildly humiliating therefore to find myself trying to get it into the car after I had paid in Homebase.
I pressed the key continually whilst trying the handle of the backdoor, waggling the axe about and becoming hotter and tomato-faced with rage the more frustrated I became. Swearing under my breath I took a step away from the door and a deep breath, before realizing what now seems obvious. It wasn’t my car. Just a mad woman with an axe trying to break into someone else’s.
Go have yourself a giggle today …
Laughter is something we take for granted and if you think about it, it’s funny in itself. It can be contagious, and we make all sorts of odd and strange noises when we laugh.
We use laughter to make social bonds and to maintain them. You feel good if you laugh, and you feel good if you make someone else laugh.
Sometimes, we can laugh by ourselves. We’ve all had that experience of worrying that we look slightly bonkers whilst walking down the street alone and bursting into spontaneous laughter at a sudden memory of something. But the best laughter by far is the kind where your tummy hurts and your eyes are watering. It just doesn’t happen often enough.
First published in the Portsmouth News, Saturday 17th September 2016
Image courtesy of breitbart.com