The Curse of Our Age

Now, you may have become somewhat over-involved in giving displays of exhibition cheese-grating in many of the more infamous vestibules of some of the UK’s most resplendent stately homes, but that does not give you the right to disport yourself over our most holy TV schedules with impunity. Be that as it may, I am not one to hold a grudge against anyone who has had the misfortune to become famous through over-frequent TV appearances. Celebrity is the plague of out age, and we should not hold those who become infected with it with scorn or contempt, providing they have – of course – done their best to avoid catching the disease in the first place. Celebrity is indeed the curse of our times and a serious threat to the integrity of our very elbows themselves.

However, if it does result in an enthusiasm for collecting begonias or attaching improbably shaped sets of cardboard wings to Dalmatians, then I’m afraid that questions should indeed be asked, but not – you’ll be pleased to hear – by any self-proclaimed interlocutor on those very same TV programmes. That way madness lies, that is if you remember to turn left at the traffic lights and take the third exit from the roundabout.