Observations on celebrity
Sunday's red tops contained more of the usual "revelations" from those keen to share the celebrity limelight, this time from a former lover of Amy Winehouse. Fame: we all want it, even if we agree that too much of it is a bad thing.
I doubt that many of us, given the choice, would actually swap places with Paris Hilton. Where would the fun be in that? You couldn't phone your friends excitably and say, "Guys, guess what? I'm Paris Hilton!" Nor could you boast about incidents where you encountered any other famous people - which, let's face it, is the main boon of celebrity culture. Because Miss Hilton is at the top, she can only look down the celebrity hierarchy; and it is far more enjoyable (and better for one's mental health) to view fame from the other side of Topshop.
We've all got stories about those obscure family connections, rare sightings or unlikely encounters that get wheeled out at parties, and I've recently embarked on a search for the perfect tenuous claim to fame. It's got to be just right - not too showy, and not too . . . famous. (Boasting that you are, say, Winston Churchill's grandson is too much.) The perfect celebrity vignette must be couched in understatement. Likewise, if you are a paparazzo, a barmaid at the Groucho Club, or Max Clifford, then you are banned from playing from the outset.
In a phenomenal triple whammy, I ran across three Big Brother contestants in a six-month period in 2005. I can confirm that Jade Goody uses the London Underground, Victor Ebuwa shops in Iceland and Brian Dowling, um, walks. In Clapham.
The drummer from the Strokes once told me that he considered my retro military jacket to be superior to his own. But that's not a tenuous claim to fame, that's just showing off, and therefore unseemly as well as unimpressive. Far better are the connections that carry an intriguing undertone, a narrative bubbling just below the surface. These, therefore, are my favourites:
I once stood idly by as Mark "Neutrino" Osei-Tutu from So Solid Crew was teased about his surname at a local schools athletics event.
The West Bromwich Albion striker Nathan Ellington punched my friend in the arm when they were both 14; it's an injury he treasures to this day.
My former flatmate's grandfather illustrated The Poddington Peas.
An actress from the Australian kids' soap opera Round the Twist gatecrashed the Millennium Eve party I was at.
My sister's ex-boyfriend kissed Amy Winehouse, aged 15, at a party in north London.
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