Tuesday 17 February 2009

Silence, nagging voice ...

So it turns out Jade Goody is really genuinely dying from fancer.

What's fancer you ask? Fanny cancer.

Don't worry, if it was a similar sort of bloke, I'd say nadcer, or cancer-balls, or something.

I must say I'm a bit confused by own reaction to all this. From the very first time I saw her on Big Brother, I found Goody to be the personification of the gobby tabloid ignorance that crystallises the very worst in English culture.

But now as she's literally being eaten away inside at a young age, I'm reconsidering.

To her credit, Goody has never pretended to be anything other than she is: a very 21st Century working class white girl. And she's made more cash than any other Big Brother contestant despite not even winning the show.

She's also as much as a product of us than anything else - she put herself up on the shelf and the British public bought her schtick, however unconscious much of it may be, by the bucketload.

Getting a bit Pseuds Corner, she reminds me of the prole women in 1984. In her completely unself-aware insularity, she manages to reveal the machinations of Inner Party types like Mandelson and their bumbling Outer Party minions like Derek Draper for the hideously contrived bullshit it is.

I can't say I'll actively miss Goody when she shuffles off into the great Diary Room in the sky in a few months time but then - hey! - thousands of people die an hour and I don't grieve for them either.

But I certainly don't dislike her anymore and I have to admit to a grudging respect. You got dealt a shit hand in life Jade - with the crackhead Mum and all - and you played it pretty well.

May your journey be swift and the WKD Blue flowing wherever you end up.

No comments:

Post a Comment