Of course, due to the pernicious nature of celebrity and the ever shifting whims of society, we are fully entitled to demand a great deal of those that we reward with our adulation. No longer is it enough to merely be famous by being famous. The general public demands, and so receives in abundance, a pantheon of celebrities whose skills are as varied as the television programmes, movies and pop songs that bombard us every day.

Oh, wait, that?s not the case? Still, who cares? Look! There?s David Tennant cooing over a photograph of his long dead great uncle! Wheeeee! Isn?t civilisation just grand? Because whilst we roll around in our own filth, grubbing for coins like Daily Mail readers looking for another reason to hate foreigners, broadcasters are becoming increasingly focused on spewing a fetid wave of insulting guff into our faces.

?Celebrities? rule every facet of our lives, and it?s high time that this unacceptable burden be thrown from our shoulders, before we are forced to cough up licence fees in exchange for a feature length costume drama in which John Barrowman screams around South London desperately searching for a cure for gout and a way to loosen his delightfully senile grandmother?s stools (the grandmother would, of course, be played by the ubiquitous David Jason).

We?re simply dishing out fame too easily. You can kick a ball quite far? Superb, have a sponsorship. You?re hopelessly addicted to heroin? How awful! Get this man a record deal, quickly! You?ve just adopted a little African baby, whilst circumnavigating several legal procedures? Wonderful! You must truly have a deep heart, or perhaps some insane desire to collect different colour people.

Any society where Michael Jackson is banned from radios around the world on suspicion of his being a paedophile, and then welcomed back to the airwaves solely on the decision of 11 star struck imbeciles is in dire trouble. It is instances such as this that act as the mirror in which we see that these celebrities are not the canker on society. It is our unquestioning, slack-jawed faces slowly dribbling out microwaveable chow as we watch. People die in their droves due to entirely preventable causes, but not in Heat magazine, otherwise we might do something.

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the unavoidable collapse of society. It may be hosted by Bruce Forsyth, but it?s very much our fault.