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A World of weariness

Text: Gustavo Lorca.


BARRYMOORE: Laughing Boy.

So Make it Easy on Yourself

I have about me just a little hatred, a liberal smattering of contempt, a wealth of misanthropy and for the most part these things see me through the day. At first glance the opportunities for expanding the scope of my bitter worldview seem almost limitless, after all, the entire world is overflowing with horror and arseholes, yet I refrain from doing so. Why? Because sooner or later one has to realise that there really do need to be limits to our loathing.

I ask in all honesty can one really go on gushing bile indefinitely over the likes of Barrymore for instance? Sure its fun to begin with and there really is plenty of scope for abuse. His baffling persistence in presenting himself in the guise of a ludicrous ersatz Basil Fawlty. The seemingly endless succession of low budget quizzes and chat shows which he foists upon a public already punch drunk and reeling from his previous efforts.

Invariably these shows involve the use of real people, which fortunately for Barrymore, readily affords him the opportunity to garner a few cheap wheezes at the expense of some grubbily manhandled pensioner. Tune in prime time any Saturday and treat yourself to panoramic views of an old ladys sagging gusset as shes badgered and mauled across a sofa. See how they blush! But these unfortunates neednt be ashamed their only crime was credulity; to have allowed themselves to become embroiled in one of Barrymores bungling scams.

Theres no denying he really is a guileless, prancing oaf and I can think of few careers in modern British television so woefully half-arsed. But does he really possess the innate spark of vileness that makes true abhorrence a possibility? I think not. To credit him with such would surely be to overstate his achievements.

Yet though his sins are manifold, I cannot deny there are certain mitigating factors working in Barrymore's favour. His shows though execrable are at least limited to a single avoidable medium and the boozy sincerity of coming out, then bursting into tears on stage in a karaoke bar has its charms.

So what might be considered and appropriate emotional response to Michael Barrymore and his ilk, caught, as he is somewhere between humanity and a war crime.

Under these circumstances I consider the only credible response to be abject weariness. It is simply not worth raising your ire with these characters. Should you chose to respond to the temptation and vent spleen at every cream faced loon that crosses your path, you will undoubtedly be assailed by a raft of life sapping, spirit draining ailments, theres no need, my friend, no need .

I urge you to save your rancour for those truly deserving causes, Pol Pot, Joseph Stalin and the honourable Member of Parliament for Basingstoke and Deane, Andrew Hunter.


HUNTER: 'Look into my eyes...'