News avoiders

More and more people are deliberately avoiding news reports as they find them too depressing and alarming. They're actively looking for alternative media content that's more cheerful and optimistic.

At the start of this year, 39 per cent of people questioned said they sometimes or often avoid the news, up from 29 per cent in 2018. They're overwhelmed by rolling news alerts and commentary, much of it horrific or worrying.

I must say my own attitude to the news is somewhat ambivalent. I want to know what's going on in the outside world, but I also recoil from so much outright brutality and misery - which I can do nothing about.

Of course journalists will argue that they have to give us the full horror of events like wars or mass rapes or barbaric regimes, so we realise just how dreadful they are. To skirt over sickening details or play them down in order to "spare people's feelings" is simply irresponsible.

But at the same time as we're made aware of all these appalling events, we're usually unable to do anything about them, which leaves us feeling not only depressed but frustrated and helpless. I have no influence over any of the public figures who could give us a better world. I can only watch as horror after horror unfolds.

In the end the only thing I can do is turn off the news and retreat into my comfortable domestic bubble, watching episodes of Simon's Cat, listening to Bonnie Raitt, and re-reading my favourite authors. Thank heaven for culture, which is always a reliable antidote to the savagery of the outside world.

Just suppose

Now here's an interesting mental exercise. Can you imagine a world without celebrities? Without fame? A world where we're all ordinary, anonymous people and nobody is idolised or given special attention? It's almost impossible because the celebrity syndrome is so pervasive.

Just suppose actors and artists and musicians and sportspeople were simply appreciated and their talents recognised, without their being mobbed and obsessed over, without their being accosted and stared at wherever they went, without screaming media headlines when they got divorced or had a baby or wore a risqué dress.

Just suppose nobody cared where Lady Gaga lived or who she lived with or how wealthy she was or what she was wearing or what was her big break or whether she has fibromyalgia or if she gets stage fright or what is her favourite food or what she finds embarrassing. Just suppose people loved her music but had zero interest in her personal life.

Difficult, isn't it? We're so used to this huge stratum of society called celebrities, who get endless attention and adulation simply because they're talented, who're constantly in the media, whose every trivial utterance is treated as if it's the holy grail, that it's almost impossible to imagine their sudden absence. It's easier to imagine the death of the planet than the absence of celebs.

A celeb-free world is a bit easier to imagine here in Northern Ireland where public figures aren't idolised to the same extent as they are in England. In general they're treated as ordinary folk and if they start acting as if they're someone special they're quickly told that they're "losing the run of themselves".

But just suppose there were no celebs. The paparazzi would be out of a job. And the media would have to find some genuine news stories.

Body blow

I should be used to it by now, but I'm always surprised by how many people dislike their body image and how few are happy with the way they look. Apparently the lockdown made many people even more critical of their physical appearance.

A parliamentary report found that 61 per cent of adults and 66 per cent of children feel negative about themselves most of the time. And the vast majority felt worse since the lockdown.

The women who felt worse blamed diet culture, post-natal pressures, the lack of older women in the media, and being bombarded with images of photoshopped, edited and sexualised women.

Men said body image concerns for them are also common but discussing them is still taboo, with pressure to "gain muscle mass" and look masculine.

What surprises me is that instead of regarding their physical appearance as their own business, and no one else's, so many people are striving after the fashionable "look", as displayed by highly untypical botox and surgery enhanced supermodels.

I feel like some kind of freak for actually being happy with my body as it is and not wanting to make it more "desirable". I don't want to be bulging with muscles, purged of body hair, a stone lighter, wrinkle-free or a bit bigger "down there". If people dislike the way I look, too bad. My only consideration is whether I'm physically healthy or not.

I have no wish to pour hundreds of pounds into the bank accounts of the beauty industry moguls who want me to buy perfume, moisturiser, body lotion, make-up, hair removal products, nail polish and all the other more and more numerous "must have" beauty aids.

If anyone thinks my nose is the wrong shape or my bum's too big, that's their problem, not mine.

Scary pigs

Aren't you totally terrified of swine flu? According to the media, it might kill tens of thousands, devastate businesses and trigger countless miscarriages and birth defects. We should all be quaking in our boots.

Thank God for one intrepid soul ignoring the screaming headlines and asking what the fuss is all about. It's only flu, says columnist Simon Jenkins. If you get it, just take an aspirin and wait for it to go away again.

It's not even as debilitating as other types of flu, he reminds us. We'll hardly know we've got it. A sore throat, runny nose, aching muscles - hardly the end of the world. The only people dead so far are those with underlying medical conditions that make it hard to fight the infection. So why the panic?

But the tabloids are conjuring up lines of coffins and ravaged families, the government are diverting cash and staff from elsewhere in the health service, two thousand phone advisers have been recruited and reams of advice have been issued (much of it contradictory and confusing).

Pregnant women are scared they might lose their baby, but the risk is no greater than for any other flu. The woman who died after giving birth had used a wheelchair for 15 years and had serious medical problems.

We should all take a deep breath, turn our bullshit-detectors up a few notches and just laugh heartily at all the lurid headlines. Haven't these journalists got anything better to do, like asking why poverty and illiteracy are still so common in a highly developed country?

I sometimes think journalists get a sort of sadistic thrill from frightening us out of our wits and creating doomsday scenarios out of remote possibilities. Still, why let the truth stand in the way of a good story?

PS: Of course swine flu is child's play compared with the horrors of man flu....

PPS: Drug companies and retailers are making a killing out of swine flu hysteria, selling a gullible public everything from anti-bacterial hand wipes to thermometers and face masks. It's reported that internet sales of bogus Tamiflu are now higher than bogus Viagra....

Weight crime

Up till now the horror of anorexia has been tackled through model agencies, magazines, TV companies and businesses agreeing not to promote stick-thin, underweight women. But now France is going a stage farther and making such quasi-anorexic images illegal.

The new law, currently going through parliament, will make it a criminal offence to encourage extreme thinness that could lead to ill-health or death. The penalty is two years' jail or a £24,000 fine.

Up to 40,000 people in France could be anorexic, and the cult of super-slimness is widespread. Pro-anorexia websites give young girls advice on lying to their doctors, foods that are easy to vomit, and punishing themselves for eating. Clearly action is needed.

But my question is, will this new law achieve its aims? It sounds all right in theory, but actually proving an offence could be tricky. Just how do you distinguish between a photo of a naturally thin woman, used because it appeals to readers, and the active encouragement of pro-starvation lifestyles?

Fairly straightforward with explicitly pro-anorexia websites, but less so with the ambiguous, run-of-the-mill images the media are full of. Are they just examples of fetching prettiness or are they supporting something more unhealthy? It's hard to say.

I'm reminded of the now discredited English law against 'promoting' homosexuality, which rapidly collapsed because it was impossible to define what was meant by promotion. Did school textbooks featuring gay heroes come under this heading or did you have to be busily seducing young Johnny behind the bike sheds? Confusion reigned and teachers became paranoid.

I suspect this well-intentioned measure could soon turn into a tangled morass. Which would be a shame when it's aimed at such a truly alarming phenomenon.

The price of fame

Millions of people are pining desperately to be celebrities - to swap their dull, everyday lives for a spell in the global spotlight, their every move watched and remarked on by the teeming masses.

I can't think why. Myself, I couldn't imagine a more horrible fate than being scrutinised and dissected by every voyeuristic Tom, Dick and Harriet who feels like passing an idle moment with a bit of mindless celeb-gawping.

I'd be trapped in my own home, protected by state of the art security systems and unable to walk the local streets in case I'm attacked by a stalker, besieged by shrieking fans or simply stared at like a monkey in the zoo.

I'd have to watch my appearance like a hawk to check I was thin enough, glamorous enough, confident enough, youthful enough. A few surplus ounces or a crumpled jacket and the media would pounce, telling the world I was letting myself go and my career was on the skids.

Even if I sought refuge on some far-flung Pacific island, the pararazzi would follow and snatch illicit shots of me in the buff, smooching with some unknown beauty who would then have to go into hiding herself.

Worse still, I would be a sitting duck for every journalist and passing low-life to heap abuse and contempt on me whenever the urge took them, on the grounds that (a) if I put myself in the public eye then I'm inviting custard pies and (b) I have to pay the price for my privileged lifestyle.

Who needs it? Why would anyone want to put themselves through all that for the sake of banner headlines in the tabloids? And to those who say, ah but it would be worth all that to have shedloads of money and untold luxury, well sorry to buck the trend but I prefer being able to slouch down the street in my worn-out jeans muttering to myself without the entire British population sneering at my degenerate habits over tomorrow morning's cornflakes. Anonymity? It's just fine by me.

(see also Paparazzi no thanks)

PS: Talking of celebs, Happy Birthday to the gorgeous Julian Clary, a spiffing 48 tomorrow. Julian's columns in the New Statesman are just LMAO funny.