Greg's Law

I've decided to put my name to the law describing a phenomenon which probably already has a name and a law to go with it. Still, it reads:

As a celebrity story progresses, the chance of Max Clifford becoming involved approach 1.

This is in relation to the following news story: Max Clifford represents No 10 bully claims charity boss.

Obviously the aptly-named Ms. Pratt has spread her scurrilous rumours for political reasons (the website for her charity helpfully has quotes from two Tories on the homepage to indicate her allegiance), but the poor dear is suffering a backlash for her breach in confidentiality as everyone realises how transparent and despicable her motives are. Cue the entrance of Mighty Max to save the day and commandeer the vocal chords of another client, who has, to be fair, shown herself incapable of communicating in the grown-up world. Her already-tattered reputation is, with the inclusion of the egregious Clifford, now in shreds (is a shred smaller than a tatter?), and the smug publicist has increased his own profile. Everyone's a winner.

Thomas Paine

He that would make his own liberty secure must guard even his own enemy from repression; for if he violates this duty he establishes a precedent that will reach to himself.

- On the Propriety of Bringing Louis XVI to Trial.

If only the various global revolutions and counter-revolutions had heeded Paine's advice. Damn you, France!

Extra-ordinary

I once initiated an argument with a man who resented my bland inoffensiveness. It was likely that, in the eyes of wider society, I was worth a lot more than this fusty old gentleman. I was reasonably intelligent, relatively attractive, and perhaps even vaguely witty and amusing. He was unemployed, unkempt, and warranted numerous governmental health warnings. My weakness, however, was my vanity, and he exposed it ruthlessly. He whiled away hours on his hobby of undermining self-belief. And in many respects, in this instance, he was entirely justified.

I had achieved nothing of note. I went from dreaming of stardom, to hoping for success, to wishing I was someone else, somewhere else. My love life, for example, was dull, uninteresting, and frequently gave me cause to feel utter humiliation when recalling past romantic events. Everything about me was loathsome and ordinary, and left little or no impression on anyone who had the ambivalent pleasure of meeting me. His crushing conclusion would always revolve around the observation that I was one of billions of identically-ordinary little humans pursuing their unattainable and worthless lives.

As he reached this damming summation, he chuckled blithely, because he knew that his hurtful words could not penetrate his own thick hide, and because he, pointless and worthless as he appeared to others, was self-assured, self-confident, and self-congratulatory on his ability to ridicule others. But I don't see him often.

Mr Hollow

I know a man with no strong talents or opinions, whose only transferable life skill is a well-developed sense of irony and an ability to be inhumanly sarcastic at the most inappropriate times. It is quicker to list the things he likes than those which he despises, because the former consists of nothing save himself, and the latter, for all intents and purposes, encompasses everything.

His entire being is devoted to callously destroying the dreams and ideals of those who are unfortunate enough to know him, and his caustic wit respects no boundaries of friendship or familiarity.

His life is undeservedly easy, because no one can respond to his criticism. To do that, one would need to know where his own loyalties lay, and no one does know, because he has none. He is hollow.