Amy Childs’ depressing tales of the trials and tribulations of fame: Chapter One
Fame wouldn’t be fame if it wasn’t curdled by those in the spotlight complaining about all of those ‘little people’ ruining their expectations of fame and being, well, just plain mean. How cruel of us not to bask in another being, one who expects their lives to be illuminated with pixie dust and their ‘talent’ to be elevated beyond what they actually do – which is usually nothing more than the ability to teach themselves how to put one foot in front of the other. And this is where the top half-hearted definition of a ‘celebrity’ and prime ‘one foot in front of the other’ specialist Amy Child bumbles in.
Childs claims to have had her life ‘ruined’ and ‘turned upside-down’ by the show that made her more than a lumbering pedestrian (but a lumbering televised pedestrian), the hit reality-but-not-really, TOWIE. For all the glorified associations with this acronym, there is nothing special about these people, and they are doing nothing more than raking it in for being daft and getting it on tape (and no, I won’t SHUT UPPP). For me, TOWIE is just You’ve Been Framed without the good bits, and if I’m honest, I’d far rather watch a dog fall off a skateboard, than Amy Childs string together a full sentence any day.
Fury seared through me, reading an article on MrPapparazzi.com with the introductory paragraph bludgeoning my eye sockets with, ‘Amy Childs – pictured last week leaving Nobu – has revealed how her life has been turned upside down since she shot to fame on the hit reality TV show, The Only Way Is Essex’.
You’re leaving Nobu! You probably just spent a grand on hand napkins and you want to complain about how poorly life has treated you?! Perhaps it was the king crab that made her contemplate her decision to be famous, or the caviar for starters that made her wonder, ‘Why me?!’ The poor darling, she’ll have to go for some urgent retail therapy to curb her loathsomeness of fame, and whilst she’s at it she should buy herself the world’s smallest violin.
Pschtt, put me in front of a camera so I can document my life through ‘completelyyy improvised’ script-reading and I’m sure I’ll be sobbing down the lens, asking why my bank balance has too many numbers and why my diamond shoes must fit so goddam tightly. There is a reason why there are gossip magazines, and sections dedicated to Celebrity News, just like this one, and that’s because us readers care about what happens in the lives of those that have all of what we don’t; complaining about it is only going to rubbish your name, even when your surname, Amy, already makes a mockery of the toddler that has become of you.
Through what could’ve been jealousy is now pure animosity for what has become the glorification of Childs and her posse of fraudulent televised posers. I’m happy to praise as long as you stop parading the injustice of life and all its adoration it has subjected you to in my face, teamed with a tactical crocodile tear and a whimper. So Amy, and the rest, it’s time that you remember how to get down from that high horse without an escort, oh and please, please stop throwing your toys out of the pram, you wouldn’t want to ruin your impeccable manicure, would you?
Image courtesy of AP Photo/Joel Ryan