My regular reader will recall that the other week I broke all of the big stories involving super-injunctions. That post can still be read.
But why did I – like literally other people on the internet and the twitter and the facebook and all of that like social media stuff – feel entitled to reveal all of this information about the private lives of people more famous than me.
Well, like everyone on the internet I have a blameless life. I have absolutely nothing I am ashamed of or embarrassed about or would like to keep private. You see, like everyone on the internet, I went through childhood and my teenage years with no vices. I spent my University days working hard. I made sure I was never in a room with a member of the opposite sex for a period long enough for anyone to think that anything might have happened which it most certainly did not. I observed the full formalities of Austen-era courtship and waited until I was married before deigning to kiss my bride. I have no idea where my children came from. I have never broken the law. I have led what many would say is a blameless idyllic life. Indeed, my very blameless existence on earth – like everyone else on the internet – probably explains why the rapture is going to take place tomorrow. It could only happen when there were enough top notch blameless people to populate whichever made up imaginary place it is that we’re off to.
So, given that and the fact that these people have more money than me and are sometimes on the telly (I was on the telly twice – it was great. I’d do it again if they asked. I have a knowing manner and sarcastic air that would work better today than during my early appearances) and they are not as good as me I feel entitled to bandy gossip about them and to reveal their foibles and peccadiloes, even if it might not actually be true but merely the sort of cobblers that one of the other blameless perfect people on the internet posts. And for that reason, because I am better than them and having nothing that I would feel uncomfortable about being splashed all over the papers, I feel entitled, nae obliged, to reveal everything about them.
Of course if I was less than perfect I would feel a little uncomfortable about that. But fortunately I am the physical embodiment of absolute perfection. So that’s all right then.