I admit it. I’m an eighteen year old trapped in a sixty year old body and for the life of me I wish some of my aged friends would join me. Let’s face it, we seniors are a tatty lot. We’ve forgotten more than the young folk know, but the bit we forgotten is how to be young.

Yesterday, I was sitting around thinking – you know that peaceful state which is all too often interrupted by some noisy bugger who wants to sell you something or a missionary whose only real purpose in life is to “show you the way, brother” – I digress, I was thinking, what do I love most about the new millennium? This by a not so obvious, but nonetheless sound process of elimination, would all too soon, create a magical metamorphosis to become ‘guess what I hate most about the 2000’s’.

As a marketer I should be pronounced guilty of heresy when I say loud and clear, “I hate celebrity!”. Who are these people and why should I want to know anything about them? I’m not famous and I’m thoroughly well known for being a none achiever so why am I not ‘A Celebrity’? I’m not that good looking admittedly, but neither is Jack Nicholas and I can’t act to save myself, and I know that’s true because I’ve been forced to when I’ve fallen in the poo with the Missus. So what’s with Paris Hilton; little Tommy Cruise; crazy Britney and Rachel Hunter nee ex-Mrs. Rod Stewart. How come they make big bucks just by showing up?

Despite hours of consideration I am forced to admit that, as yet, I have not be able to reach into the sea of wisdom and find one good logical reason for their popularity, yet they prevail. Some are downright ugly; others have as much intellect as a pigeon with a lobotomy, yet they are paid millions for just showing up. If they are jailed, their sad lives are plotted by the media in a frenzy to discover if their the full quid and the carry on afforded to one mixed up young man, who appears to have spent most of his life attempting to change his features, and skin tones, not to mention a suspect predisposition for playing with children who simply match his mental age, can only be described as bizarre.

Yes, us trapped old BB gens, are definitely confused by this one. Who the hell are these cretins, please tell me? Oh! – one other thing before I wheel myself back to the Home for the Bewildered. Who, please God tell me, is this person, Dr. Phil.? He’s bald, like me, he’s a bloody know it all, like me and he’s as ugly as me, in fact he’s uglier. – wait I’m inspired, I have all the credentials! I’m a celebrity – I like it!