I think from a very young age, I had not dreamed but was quite questionless about my sparkling future. I 'knew' a wonderful world of notoriety and congratulation lay ahead and I never really questioned what I might have to do to receive it.
Of course nowadays my abhorrent arrogance is fueled from a deep seated resentment in the rest of humanity for not recognizing my rightful place at the top.
It never really occurred to me that the walking deities of modern celebrity, have usually (and I am aware of the staggering number of contradictions) actually done, got good at, got really good at SOMETHING.
They may be exceptional actors or musicians or scientists or politicians, or they may well just have a massive arse and a millionaire father.
From David Attenborough to the deep-sea creatures of TOWIE they all have the canny ability to make us glaze over and spout unending arse-licking reverence. We get them to write their names on our shit, we follow them on Twitter and we'd probably let them spit in our tea.
So what sets them aside? And I mean the real ones. The Obamas, the Attenboroughs, the Hawkings, the Monroes, the Baumgartners, the Kiefer Sutherlands?. Ok not the Kiefer Sutherlands.
It's the feeling that they can just do stuff better than us.
But that got me on a very unusual train of thought. Are they good at everything? We imagine they are. They must be terrible at some stuff, otherwise they would be too powerful and the whole world would be run by Benedict Cumberbatch. I wouldn't complain.
Of course they get hacks. There are little minions that go around hacking everything for them. Little make-up and fashion elves. Word hackers that make sure what falls out of their mouth doesn't sound dumb. If you have enough money or power you can probably get somebody to make sure you don't even have to de-fly to have a piss.
It's the little bought cheats that give these people silver plated auras and make us plebs bend over and let them shaft us for every penny we have.
I have found a fun way to combat this because I know there are some things in life that can't be perfected. No matter how much skill or talent or money or unicorn dust you have, the baby Jesus has left around a good few reminders about who's boss.
Here is a few of the things in life it is IMPOSSIBLE to do well:
Running a bath to the correct temperature:
You have just had the first experimental hand dip and abruptly lost half the skin off your fingers. Logic would reason that you need to run a little cold for a while but even if you only slipped it on for a couple of seconds you will get in and immediately feel like you'd be warmer if you pissed your pants.
Cooking a frozen pizza
From raw to a blackened, unbreakable disc in the time it took you to shut and open the oven door again.
Eyeliner
Doesn't matter if you are Max Factor himself, you are still going to look like Thom Yorke.
Catching public transport
At no point in anyone's life have they ever arrived at a bus stop without either running and then flicking the driver the v's as he speeds into the distance or stood tutting and checking their phone every 10 seconds and generally staring at everyone like a crazed lunatic thinking about how mercilessly to murder the person responsible for stealing 3 minutes of your life.
Taking a well timed break at work
There is a super underground organisation tasked with sending people out to bother you at the precise point at which you need a ciggarette/brew/sandwich/toilet time.
Not pressing snooze on your alarm
Bringing the right quantity of booze to a party
You're either going to be using a tea strainer to separate the dock ends from the last half can of Special Brew or that awkward twat the next day trying to decide whether it's au fait to ask the host if they 'don't mind you just taking half the crate back with you coz, well I'd normally leave them but you know, times are hard'
Stalking someone on Facebook mobile without getting found out
"Aharharhar, look how fucking ugly they were three years ago...oh shit, unlike, unlike"
Asking to pet somebody's dog without looking like a psychopath
So if like me, you become spontaneously overwhelmed with embitterment at the state of your current social standing, just try thinking about Katie Hopkins, sat on the bog, trying to do a nice big poo and Philip Schofield banging relentlessly on the door, pleading with her to come out and shout at a fat person.
You're welcome
Ginge xxx
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