Well, it is not as if anyone had any choice in the matter. After all, there it was, just sitting there like some politician with an overwhelming sense of entitlement, and no-one could really shift it.
There was talk of some sort of hero, like King Arthur who pulled a formerly un-pullable sword from the stone. These days, though, are not the times of heroes, when the best that we can manage is regarding someone famous for being off the telly as a worthwhile human being.
Heroes belong to other times, other places. After all, these days it is equality that matters, no-one should be so above the common herd as to think or – worse – demonstrate they are not like everyone else. Originality is regarded with suspicion when being the best at being mediocre is what gets you the audiences, the contracts, the fame and the wealth. Being ordinary in front of the cameras is what matters, which is why – it seems – so many of the ordinary want to be famous and being famous is the only thing that matters… as long as you don’t do it by doing something too different.
Anyway, there the Big Thing sat, huge and immobile, with everyone standing around it wondering what could be done about it, right up to the time it was reported that some woman who’d once been on the telly had half-fallen out of her dress after forgetting to put her knickers on, and everyone rushed off to see if they could find a video of the occasion and the Prime Minister ever eager for popularity announced a National Bank Holiday to celebrate the woman falling out of her dress at such a nationally-important time.
The Big Thing still sat there – huge and immobile – but now no-one cared because it was only yesterday’s big thing.
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