Jade Goody
Posted: Sun 22 March, 2009 Filed under: Cynicism, News, Thoughts 2 Comments »So, Jade Goody died today. And already all the weasels are coming out of the woodwork (I know, it’s a mixed metaphor – live with it) with their tributes and homilies. Of course, high up in the order is good old Gordon Brown, who wouldn’t be saying anything at all if she weren’t a reality TV “star”. (which means, “star” in the loosest possible sense of the word) In fact, if she hadn’t died of cancer, the two-faced toss-pot would probably prefer to be deriding her as all that’s bad with the world™, a single mother with no education or job prospects.
Now, I have no problem with the fact that Goody’s cancer has resulted in a surge in the number of people getting scans for cancer – that’s nothing but good in my book.
But seeing all the tributes about how she was such an inspiration, such a great person (and even in one case “a Princess Diana from the wrong side of the tracks” – purlease!) really just makes me want to vomit.
The media seems to have forgotten that Jade Goody came to their attention as part of Big Brother (Series 3, I think) where she was villified for being
- fugly
- pig-thick
- unpleasant
She also then went on to show all these character traits again in Celebrity Big Brother where she was – let’s not forget – the epicentre of the racism complaints.
Yet somehow contracting cancer nullifies all these bad points, and turns the sufferer/victim into some kind of Joan of Arc figure, almost saintly in their purity, humility and beauty.
Get a fucking grip. She died. It happens every day. Sure, she was more in the public eye. But think on this – if someone like Margaret Thatcher were to die of cancer, would they instantly be converted to sainthood too?
The ultimate publicity stunt for someone who said she was only dying publicly for the money for her kids – dying on Mothers’ Day.
The only sad thing IMHO is that she managed to reproduce herself, twice, before dying.
A week before Dear Sainted Dead Diana died in a nasty accident, the father of my then boss died, albeit in his 70s. Various chavs around the office were rending their garments and ululating over Diana.
I suggested to them they ought to have spared some of that emotion for the boss (admittedly, I had smugness on my side having sat down with him and listened, as a friend, for half an hour).
Just because JG was shrewd enough to monetise her terminal illness doesn’t make it obligatory for we the public to obey the media-led diktats to grieve.