Page Turner

Biting her tongue, thank Christ

Whoa there! Am I going mad(der)? Is it true that bob-brained popstress Jesse J has signed a deal with a major publisher to write her autobiography? Well, fuckadoodledo. So it's true that any old bugger has a book in them then.
What, pray, is with this business of squeezing autobiographies out of people who have done fuck all? I mean, what's Jesse J going to write about when she finally learns how to hold a pen properly? A trip to the Brits and her laughable choice of body stockings? 
OK, so she is doing well in a furiously competitive industry but how about giving it another decade or so before cramming the tale into 80,000 words? Yeah, I know that probably doesn't fit in with the marketing plan that's been crafted around her (so much for ignoring the price tag, eh, Jess love?) but, strewth, surely an autobiography has to be based on more than when when the subject matter finally grew pubes. 
And yeah, I know that such book fodder have sprawling fan bases to screw money out of, so there are plenty of eager teens desperate to read this tat, but come on. Don't the likes of Jesse J, and anyone else wedged into such a deal, also wonder what the frig there is to write about?
Christ, perhaps I am old fashioned and equate autobiographies with a lifetime of successful endeavours or political, scientific and cultural insights. Perhaps I like to pick up said tomes with burning anticipation at learning from a life well lived. Sorry Jess, love, but something tells me that your scribblings won't necessarily fall into these categories. Although I dare say it'll educate me fully on the joys of studded lipstick and the writing of banal pop warblings. 
And yeah, I do realise that this makes me some sort of literararary snob but that's what you get from an ex-journalist: the urge to read something of value, and not just to the record company's bean counters. I reckon Jesse J's insights will fall into one of those categories and I sure as shit know which one. 

Proud to be thick

I will not learn, I will not learn...

There I was in my local library the other day, furiously trying to educate my first/ only born when I overheard a conversation between the librarian and the local yoof. 
Said yoof (a beautiful stereotype of a hoodie-wearing ape with burning acne) was asking for a carrier bag to transport home a pile of books he was picking up for a relative. Course, now that bags are banned here in Wales (well, you know what I mean)  the librarian was unable to oblige. The result? The yoof loudly declared, "I'm not walking down the street with books. I'll look like a right twat!" before leaving the tomes on the counter and lolloping out of the building.
Looks like The Jeremy Kyle Show has stage fodder for a good few years yet.