What am I going to do to get James Mcavoy out of my life? I hesitate to turn on the telly for fear of seeing that smirking face. I can't open a newspaper without the trademark hangdog look peering out of the pages. I went in a bookshop the other day and there it was gazing out of the shelves. I feel I'm being medially stalked. What the devil is going on?
It's the Mcavoy media love-in at the moment. How long before he becomes a love rat? Then there's the "My Drink and Drugs Hell" story, to be followed by the nonentity's consignment to oblivion. But fear not, there'll be another one along in a minute.
Russell Brand, the Man-sized Testicle; Ben Fogle (Who? What? Why?). An old mate of mine had a simple explanation for these overexposed individuals; "Somebody's rooting her/him" was his verdict. Cynical perhaps, but in many cases one struggles to find a more credible explanation.