Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Infernal Organ
Mr Bestworst got in touch to ask "When will I, will I be famous?". Now we can't, we can't answer that. But we do know someone, or something rather, that can. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome The TiaPL Spleen.
Everyone, as any idiot without an original thought in their head will tell you, will be famous for fifteen minutes. Or so Andy Warhol said, but what did he know? He thought Curiosity Killed the Cat were one of the greatest pop groups ever, so we can safely discount his opinion. Fame is a hunger though, which we all seem to crave. We all want to be recognised for something, anything, but preferably involving as little effort as possible. Some people enter reality shows, some people act like twats in front of the camera on live news reports, some people post up their insignificant opinions about pop on weblogs, but they all share the same desire for attention and love.
Fame can come in many forms though and can arrive quite unexpectedly. For example, Lord Brockett, a convicted fraudster, is now the toast of Britain after his appearance in I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here helped rehabilitate his damaged profile. It'll be interesting to see how the public react to Maxine Carr when she tries the same tactic for the next series.
But as for when you will be famous, it'll be very soon, as long as you're preared to start paying us in fame juice - i.e. sweat. Oh, and money. If you send a bucket of sweat with your credit card floating in it then I shall make you as famous as it is possible for a spleen to make you. My idea is to sell to the tabloids the story of a young man who managed to exude a bucket's worth of sweat, then foolishly sent his credit-card details to a completely fictional internal organ. I reckon that that'll certainly get you noticed as you walk around your hometown; the pointing fingers and hysterical laughter that will follow you as you go may well put you off the idea of fame forever. Or at least encourage you to wear blinkers and earplugs.
Thanks once again Spleen. For medical reasons we've been told that we're only allowed to have our spleen removed one more time, so the very last question for our animate organ will be answered next week. Until then we're going to hold our side very carefully and wish for the nasty pain to stop and for the oozing to stop.
Everyone, as any idiot without an original thought in their head will tell you, will be famous for fifteen minutes. Or so Andy Warhol said, but what did he know? He thought Curiosity Killed the Cat were one of the greatest pop groups ever, so we can safely discount his opinion. Fame is a hunger though, which we all seem to crave. We all want to be recognised for something, anything, but preferably involving as little effort as possible. Some people enter reality shows, some people act like twats in front of the camera on live news reports, some people post up their insignificant opinions about pop on weblogs, but they all share the same desire for attention and love.
Fame can come in many forms though and can arrive quite unexpectedly. For example, Lord Brockett, a convicted fraudster, is now the toast of Britain after his appearance in I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here helped rehabilitate his damaged profile. It'll be interesting to see how the public react to Maxine Carr when she tries the same tactic for the next series.
But as for when you will be famous, it'll be very soon, as long as you're preared to start paying us in fame juice - i.e. sweat. Oh, and money. If you send a bucket of sweat with your credit card floating in it then I shall make you as famous as it is possible for a spleen to make you. My idea is to sell to the tabloids the story of a young man who managed to exude a bucket's worth of sweat, then foolishly sent his credit-card details to a completely fictional internal organ. I reckon that that'll certainly get you noticed as you walk around your hometown; the pointing fingers and hysterical laughter that will follow you as you go may well put you off the idea of fame forever. Or at least encourage you to wear blinkers and earplugs.
Thanks once again Spleen. For medical reasons we've been told that we're only allowed to have our spleen removed one more time, so the very last question for our animate organ will be answered next week. Until then we're going to hold our side very carefully and wish for the nasty pain to stop and for the oozing to stop.
