Written to mark the moment when unknown office temp and model, Chantelle Houghton, convinced her Celebrity Big Brother co-contestants that she really was famous.
Welcome to the ghost game of celebrity,
the trick-or-treat vision of fame.
Welcome to the hope that money and power
will quickly devour the shame.
Welcome to the restless world of the tabloid spread,
the cult of the breast on Page Three.
Welcome to the Faustian pact of a life on the blag
and nightclub entry for free.
Welcome to the jet-streamed, ephemeral hell
of Frankenstein’s TV set
where the ghosts of celebrity present and past
change caste in a game of Russian roulette.
Will you get rich quick and out of the office?
Are you slick enough to survive?
Will you have music to sell us in ten years’ time?
Will you turn to crime? Will you still be alive?
In the too-brief world of the tabloid god
brazen self-belief is a must.
The briefer the candle, the brighter it burns
but the smaller the urn for your dust.