To be Someone

And so in a few brief hours another Big Brother contestant will emerge from their protective shell and be thrown into the jeering crowds and flashing bulbs. It must be a very strange thing to suddenly find yourself, for just a few brief moments, as the centre of the universe. Straight from interview to press conference to limosine and five star accommodation, before selling your soul for a five figure seal to one of the sunday tabloids.

I can't deny I have never given the celebrity thing any thought. I confess it would certainly be nice to be photographed occasionally without the picture being accompanied by 3 penalty points and a summons.

But could I really handle fame?

I mean it would be fun at first as I turned up at premiers with one of the Sugachicks or an Atomic Pussycat on my arm. I may even be offered a small bit on the Bill as a Traffic Warden or Convieniance store attendent.

As my reputation spreads I'd find myself playing a jovial local in the Midsommer Murders, before making my film debut in a low budget Film Four Production about comedic misunderstandings at a Funeral Parlour.

Once that goes well I would go flying with the Doctor in the TARDIS or be Jim Brannings love-child in the shock soap storyline of the year. A role which will ultimately see me win best newcomer at the Soap awards and be offered a seven figure deal to replace Barry Scott as the new face of Cillit Bang.

Of course I would let it all go to my head and the 3 volumes of my Autobiography "Why I am so Great!" will be critically bashed. Suddenly Have I got News for You would replace me as guest host, and my Novelty Christmas single with the Hamiltons will peak at number 74.

Richard & Judy would stop calling and the only work I'd be offered will be a stint on Celebrity Fat Club or Panto with the Bloke who used to be Ricky in Eastenders.

The Parties would dry up and in a fit of depression I'd agree to go on "I'm A Celebrity..." where eventually I would be thrown out and arrested following an incident with one of the other contestants and some cooking implements.

The legal proceedures would rob me of the last of my wealth, my cars and my swimming pool shaped like Natasha Kaplinsky's bottom.

Then one wet and windy night i'd find myself on the streets squaring up to a bouncer and uttering those immortal words, "Do you Know Who I Am?" He won't of course and after my bones heal and I get new teeth I'd find myself accepting a job in a bear suit for kids TV.

I'd finish my days sitting in the corner of the pub telling my cautionary tale to all that will listen, with it getting ever more dramatic and exaggerated as the pints go down.


Yeah, I'm up for a bit of that!!