Over time, we may add more groundlings, so that the celebrity bottom feeder is forced to face an authentic slice of their real audience.
She’d been sat between us at dinner and had this sort of flaky skin, most of which stayed on the seat when she got up.
In a world which celebrates marriage at first sight, and the televised sharing of STDs between teenagers, this sounds like Kenneth Clarke's Civilisation to me.
This is the great beauty of the law: it does not do a great deal for compensating the wrongs done to innocent victims, but it’s an absolute boon to each and every rotten egg for its manifold spoiling tactics.
‘You’ll sell that idea better to Gemma Collins than you will Julia Roberts,’ he said. Then went silent again.
Thinking about it all again now, it seems far more likely that I am older than I am.
This notion has gained such traction with me that I am starting to think that my father may not have been that bad after all; persuading myself to look at him and his sort like exhibits in a museum from whom I have evolved.
‘You’re one of them now,’ he said, ‘a talentless gobby prick with ideas above his station and work to match.’
A lesser man might once have been embarrassed at making such a gaff. The trick is, to act like you still meant it after your error has been explained to you.
Oh yes, la vie manqué went on a frolic of its own, all right.