People who work down coal mines tend not to suffer from it. Nor do women who stand ten hours a day in front of a conveyor belt putting cherries on buns. And nor do busy nurses and doctors on 24-hour shifts with other people’s lives and deaths in their hands.
For the hard-working show-off… sorry, showbiz type, exhaustion is an everyday hazard that could strike you down at a moment’s notice. Ordinary civilians just don’t understand. They are the lucky ones and should tell themselves that each and every day of their lives.
So our hearts go out to Cheryl Cole nee Geordie who this weekend ‘collapsed’ (ooh, it was like something out of the 19th century it was) at a photo-shoot. Because, as anyone who works in what is (usually laughably) referred to as ‘the industry’ will know, a shoot can take it out of you if you are a sleb.
You turn up usually two hours after everyone else on the shoot in a car that has been arranged for you. You enter, to everyone going how marvellous you look and how much they love your new single/show/underwear range/L’Oreal campaign. You need not reply if you can’t be arsed.
You sit, are asked whether you would like coffee or toast or something from an entirely different part of London that someone probably not even getting paid because they are a ‘workie’ will run – run! – to get for you.
Then after hours of chatting to your friends on your mobile while someone does your hair, nails, knees and toes, knees and toes you will be required to pull a sneery face over a rack of clothes someone has spent the last week putting together. If you find something you like, you will then be obliged to put the stylist in the uncomfortable position of trying to blag it for you from the PR. You earn millions – why should you pay for your own fucking clothes?
You will then have your photograph taken while everyone fawns over you and says how amazing you are.
At the end of the day – if you haven’t already carked it out of sheer medically prescribed exhaustion – a car will arrive into which you will step while the stylist – still arguing with someone on the phone about how ‘She just took it. It will be great PR. I’m really sorry. I know it was the only one you had’ – will pile the rest of the ignored clothes into a huge suitcase which she will then lumber onto a bus home ready to cook her own dinner…
So, chins up Cheryl. We’re thinking of you…