Look, I’m sick of this not-being-famous crap. Enough’s enough. I want my fifteen minutes, and I’m not just talking jail time.
Clearly in the early twenty-first century I don’t have to have an actual skill to become famous - bad news for plate-spinners and cup-stackers everywhere – but I will need to approach my planned getting-of-attention in a systematic way.
I can already moonwalk amazingly well, so that’s done. I figure there’s just a handful of additional steps I need to take.
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When I was 12, I wanted to be an air hostess when I grew up. My best friend wanted to be a traffic warden. She even drew a picture of herself in a beige uniform handing out a parking ticket.
Neither of us achieved our dreams, what with me becoming a journalist and her having to make do with working for one of the world’s biggest film companies.
So she, in particular, was astounded that today’s children no longer have such civic aspirations as we did. Instead, they just want to be famous.
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