Why Davina McCall Must Die

THERE ARE now so many huge masses of gas, rock, vapour, gravity and stuff floating around the universe that scientists have had to come up with a new system to distinguish between planets and all the other intergalactic debris out there. The Planet Definition Committee of the International Astronomical Union last week proposed that a planet shall be nothing less than “a celestial body with sufficient mass to assume a nearly spherical shape that orbits a star without being another star or a satellite of another planet”.
What a brilliant idea – a set of clear cut criteria to stop our universe being clogged up by any old lump of rock purporting to be a planet. Surely it’s time to introduce a similar system closer to home, one that will regulate exactly how many sad, desperate lumps of gas and vapour floating around earth can call themselves a celebrity?
A little known study by the Office for National Statistics has predicted that by the year 2020 there will be more celebrities than normal people in the world. This will be a direct result of the global explosion in reality TV shows and the relentless hunger of tabloid newspapers for something other than political unrest in the Middle East, famine in Africa, and the failure of US foreign policy everywhere to write about. In effect, the report predicts a horror on a scale far greater than the effects of AIDS, global warming or bird flu – a global celebrity infestation.
This is a far more chilling prospect than reality TV producers and tabloid newspaper editors realise. If there are more celebrities than normal people in the world, it will mean nightclubs having to enlarge their VIP rooms and reduce their capacity for ordinary punters; airlines will have to extend their first class sections, meaning less cheaper seats for the rest of us; and if fashion designers are giving away freebies to more celebrities, it will mean a shortage of readily-available, affordable clothes for the rest of us.
This is why it is essential that the governments of the world follow the example of the International Astronomical Union and form a Celebrity Definition Committee before it is too late. The number of celebrities has to be reduced before we reach the nightmare scenario of billions of Big Brother evictees hogging guest lists, pantomimes and supermarket openings around the world.
Once the CDC has reached agreement on the definition of celebrity, we can introduce an annual cull of all those who don’t meet the criteria. Downgrading them to “ordinary citizen” status won’t be enough. Their egos will already be inflated to dangerously-high levels of narcissism. They will have to be culled, ideally humanely, maybe by locking them all in an aircraft hangar and forcing them to read aloud from their autobiographies. Alternatively, we could declare a week-long Celebrity Hunt Season during which everyone has the right to take pot shots at Davina McCall and anyone else not on the protected celebrities list.
This isn’t as extreme as it sounds. Think of all those huge, six-figure salaries that will be saved. The “golden handshake” fee of just one so-called celebrity – Channel 4’s Davina McCall or ITV’s Carol Vorderman, for example – would be enough to build several hospitals. Or, if you’re a Carol Vorderman fan and don’t understand that analogy, a global network of animal shelters for abandoned puppies.

WHO SHOULD BE CULLED?

Reality TV Show Contestants. This is obvious and needs no explanation. For them, celebrity is not a by-product of being skilful at something. It is a by-product of wanting to be a celebrity. And that’s wrong.
TV Presenters. In the golden age of TV – i.e. before Endemol Productions and “media studies” courses existed - there was no such job title as “TV presenter”. The people who fronted documentaries, entertainment programmes and chat shows were experts in their chosen field(David Attenborough), established entertainers(Bob Monkhouse), experienced journalists(Michael Parkinson) or war correspondents(Alan Whicker). They were not attention-seeking ex-Page Three girls(Jayne Middlemiss), former singing waitresses(Davina McCall) or camp, permatanned, cosmetically-enhanced, vanity-driven former nightclub DJs(Dale Winton).
(Incidentally, there is a recent precedent for culling crap TV presenters. If you live in Scotland, you may remember the horror of Scotsport, a weekly round-up of Scottish football fronted by Julyan(sic) Sinclair and Sarah O(sic). Between them, they had the charisma, charm and wit of a lamppost. After 7,000 viewers signed an on-line petition, they were dropped.)
News Readers. Not the hard-core journalists such as ITN’s Mark Austen, but the ones who genuinely believe that being able to read autocue is a skill akin to deciphering the Rosetta Stone, such as the BBC’s Fiona Bruce. Piers Morgan revealed in his excellent autobiography The Insider that Ms Bruce is so far up her own arse she sent him a note on the day he had just suffered personal heartache and professional disgrace(his sacking after the Mirror’s Iraqi torture hoax photos) to tell him that if he watched her on that night’s Nine O’Clock News he would feel much better because she was sporting dodgy eyewear.
Weather Forecasters, Radio Traffic Reporters, etc Theirs’ is a simple task, to tell us what the weather will be like or what awaits us on our journey into work, yet many of them have built up their roles into something only slightly less important than Koffi Annan. Worst culprit is possibly Sian Lloyd. Who would suspect she was nothing more than a radio traffic reporter-turned-weather girl from this glowing, self-penned accolade: “[My job] requires credibility and masses of scientific knowledge. After all, what I broadcast can save lives…..as a continuity announcer, my role embodied tremendous creativity……At least I’m now producing though-provoking documentaries but there’s so much more I could be fronting.”(The Guardian 29 Nov 2004). By the way, a continuity announcer is someone who tells you what’s coming up next after the news.
MTAs. For the love of God, why? The world needs another Model Turned Actor like The Guardian needs another smug, middle-class, parent-of-three, Proust-quoting columnist. Why can’t models just stick to being seen and not heard? One of them, whose name I don’t know, is single-handedly dismantling everything that is good about my favourite soap Coronation Street(the gormless-looking twat who plays Adam).
Actors. Let’s get one thing clear. Acting is not an art, a journey, a profession or a calling. It’s not even a skill. Plumbing is a skill. Acting is what kids do – it’s pretending. I might go to the cinema or watch a drama on TV occasionally, but I also take a crap twice a day. A toilet is much more useful to me than Kate Winslet or Ewan McGregor. But the CDC would make an exception in the case of actors who consistently give entertaining interviews, i.e. don’t bore us to death by talking about the demands of their art, profession, calling, etc., or who demonstrate an awareness of life in the real world. So George Clooney and Jennifer Anniston would be spared. Winslet and McGregor would not.

WHO SHOULD BE SAVED?

Now, just to prove this blog isn’t all misanthropy and bile, here are some names and categories I believe should be granted exemption from any cull.
Professional Sportsmen/women. You might loathe the appalling tastes in music, clothes, cars and jewellery of your typical Premiership footballer as much as I do, but most of them have only – and reluctantly - attained celebrity status on account of a sporting prowess and dedication us mere mortals can only dream about.
Musicians/singers They have achieved celebrity status purely as a result of their ability to create a wonderful backdrop to our everyday existence. Even Razorlight. But definitely not the Spice Girls.
Models. Because we all need something nice to look at.
Comedians Because we all need to laugh. But not Scottish comedians. Swearing, drinking and funny accents are considered sophisticated comedy up there, aka Karen Dunbar and Chewin’ The Fat.
Lauren Laverne. Best presenter on TV at the moment and, of course, can barely get a look in because of all the Big Brother dross clogging up the schedules.
Francis Wilson Best weather forecaster. Criminally under-used by Sky TV.

YES, KILL ME

Finally, to help the Celebrity Definition Committee complete their list of Protected Celebrities, here is a questionnaire that should be sent to all existing celebrities. If the recipient answers YES to eight or more, they should be earmarked for culling immediately.

1. Have you written your autobiography despite being under 25?
2. Have you shagged Ulrika Jonsson or Calum Best?
3. Do your ambitions include “having my own chat show”?
4. Have you achieved at least two of the following: appeared in a soap/released a record/appeared in a lads’ mag?
5. Have you ever been invited to appear on Love Island or Celebrity Big Brother?
6. Do you support Man Utd?
7. Do you Google your own name on a weekly basis?
8. Have you ever appeared as a model in a clothing catalogue or fronted a TV commercial for a personal loans company?
9. Have you ever worked as a singing telegram or hospital radio DJ?
10. If you weren’t a celebrity, would it be fair to say that you would be unemployable in any skills-based industry?

This week, Jack Havana recommends:
MUSIC: This is Hazelville, by Captain.
FILM: The Consequences of Love(out on DVD)
BOOK: The Insider, by Piers Morgan.
CIGAR: Trinidad Robusto Extra(Cuba).