As I sat on the bus this morning, I was mulling over some really grim celebrity gossip I was privvy to yesterday. Now, in the course of my work I hear all sorts of things about all sorts of people. But yesterday I heard something extra special... about someone extra grim... who got married earlier this week. In all honesty, I've heard quite a few off-the-record nasty things about said person this week, but what I heard yesterday made even cynical-old-me cringe in disgust and left a vile picture in my mind (even now it's causing me to wince). So it's fair to say that when I got home last night, and P revealed the nitty gritty of a separate celeb's hanky panky with a royal (in full detail), I didn't have much stomach for it. Sometimes, I really have to question the integrity of what I do for a living.
However, as I sit here now, waiting for the cromalins to turn up, (7.40pm on a Friday with no sign of going home for at least another four hours and yes, I have been here since 10am) I've been considering how much longer I can really hack it. As much as I've enjoyed (if 'enjoy' is the right word) 'urgh'-ing and 'yuk'-ing over the salacious tales I hear from industry insiders, there is a large part of me that finds it all desperately sad. Sad that readers find the heavily-edited lives of these losers fascinating (I could understand it more if they knew what REALLY went on), and sad that people are making millions out of it. So a certain part of me is relieved that I have a three week booking at a homes magazine coming up... surely my morals will be safe there, sandwiched between a spread on sofas and an article about plumbing - or am I straying into dangerous territory again?
One final word... for all that I've said above, when The Gordon Ramsay Story (yes, THAT one) finally breaks, I shall be the first in line to buy my copy of the News Of The World. I might even frame it. Tee hee. Some things ARE worth sharing.