Dear Australian media,
In this day and age there are many things to be concerned about. Floods. Fire. Famine. International political turmoil. Oprah. So it’s good to know you’re getting your priorities right.
Thank you for your continued coverage of the relationship between Liz Hurley and Shane Warne. It’s nice to see our journalists usefully employed; standing outside a suburban home, waiting for a glimpse of two people who may or may not be sleeping together. It’s like watching Big Brother, except the cameras are only allowed outside the house and for the most part you don’t actually see anyone except the reporter.
Not only that, but thank you for continually crossing over during bulletins to live coverage from outside Shane Warne’s house. I can just see how that would have gone:
Reporter: Yes, well, I’m still here. At the house. Umm… As you can see it has a… a sort of, corrugated metal fence. Red brick. Nice little garden. Yes. And… wait? What’s this? Is that…? Is that…? No, sorry, it’s just the postman. He’s trying to stuff an envelope into the letter box. Is Liz Hurley trying to smuggle herself onto the premises in that envelope? Only time will tell. More on this later in the program.
Of course I confess I’m not sure what the coverage was actually like as I had for some strange reason decided I’d rather watch the Norwegian weather report on SBS and had thus already changed the channel.
Thank you for informing me that, yes, red is the new black. It’s always good - when attending fundraising events for people whose homes have been destroyed by floods and who have lost friends and family - to know exactly what colour one should be wearing. After all, one wouldn’t want to seem so callous as to wear the wrong colour, would one?
The only critique I can make is this; can’t all media outlets agree on which colour actually is ‘in’? One says it’s red, one says it’s camel… I didn’t even know camel was a colour. I thought they were those deformed horses that spit a lot. But no; apparently camel is a colour. It’s a strange sort of greyish-brown which could only be the colour of a camel if said camel had died during the reign of Tutankhamen and had returned from the grave to plague mankind. So camel is the new red which is the new black, which actually may be white, and both are actually shades incidentally, and besides when was black even fashionable except for mourning and solicitors? So please, get your stories straight.
Thank you for giving so much coverage to the Royal Wedding. Especially for informing us that Kate Middleton was spotted having lunch with Camilla Parker Bowles. I open the paper and there it is. My life feels complete now, knowing that someone in a foreign country who I have never met had lunch with someone else I have never met who happens to be her future step-mother-in-law. And this wasn’t just any lunch. There were armed bodyguards. There were amazed onlookers. Reporters, photographers… If only ‘My Dinner With Andre’ had contained so much excitement.
And another thing – thank you for constantly updating me on the whereabouts and lives of our world’s celebrities. For a start I feel a lot safer knowing that they’re not going to be anywhere near me. Nothing ruins my day more than pushing through a crowd of people screaming and swooning over someone whose only claim to fame is that they can look distractedly into the middle distance or have rich parents or appear in videos wearing a great big smile and very little else. And that’s just the thing. The less a celebrity does the more of a celebrity they are. Cate Blanchett can walk down the street and barely be recognised, but a skinny blonde with a thin nose and vacant eyes can’t sit in a café without being plagued with autographs in case she really is that one whose father owns a long chain of department stores and built a rather nice hotel in Kentucky.
Forgive me for becoming serious for a moment. I assure you it will never happen again.
It is also comforting to know that someone else’s life is worse than yours. The roof may be leaking, the bills may be pilling up and you may have just been fired, but at least you don’t have to take an annual trip to rehab. Or be constantly followed by obsessed lunatics with cameras. And that’s just the press. Or spend hours staring into a camera trying to look emotional. Or listen to Pierce Brosnan singing. At least we have mute buttons. And so it makes me feel warm and fuzzy to know that the daily trials of middle working class life are nothing to the trials and tribulations suffered by those that earn millions and can’t even find a decent cocktail at 4am without ringing the servants. So thank you for filling up so much of my life with this information.
So anyway, all I really wanted to do was thank you for all you are doing for this country. Glad to see that you have your priorities right.
Love to the kids.
Yours always,
Sam.
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