Emergency! Do You Suffer From Celebrity Fatigue Syndrome (C.F.S.)?

Blame Celebrity Big Brother. Blame super babies with odd names and celebrity chefs getting caught in compromising positions. Blame the post-Christmas fug as more and more innocent people of normal intelligence fall victim to a very mysterious ailment. Some claim it is a direct result of the star saturated world we are all marinating in. Sounds like a joke, you cry. Read on, dear sceptic, read on!

Experts (none of whom were available for a direct quote, sadly) are calling it ‘…an epidemic of global proportions’, one that crosses borders and oceans with shocking ease. While doctors struggle to develop treatment (apparently they have better things to be doing, which is a tad uncaring) millions are infected by this potentially irritating, mind-altering disease that has invaded all corners of human life.

No matter where Mary Anne went, the sludgy hand of celebrity was sure to follow...

The name: Celebrity Fatigue Syndrome or C.F.S. whereby the patient develops an acute, sometimes violent aversion to all things ‘celebrity’ with troubling implications for them, those close to them and indeed the world.

Wondering how to spot a C.F.S sufferer? Thankfully it isn’t hard to do. While most people are sanguine and accepting of the ever more prevalent celebrity forces in our societies, C.F.S. patients grow moody and increasing irritated. They claim celebrity culture is indicative of a society that is vomiting up its own excesses and then parading them around as ‘entertainment’.

Patients become emotional, even angry, demanding to know how in the name of Napoleon’s left bollock certain celebrities became famous in the first place, without having any discernable talent, except for a bodged boob job, poorly produced sex tape or reality TV show ‘career’. No answers offered by friends or family are ever enough to allay their concerns. They also foam from the mouth whenever anyone produces a copy of Heat magazine.

It is natural to assume you are or could be a potential sufferer of C.F.S. The good news is self-diagnosis is relatively simple. If you’ve experienced any of the following, chances are – deep breath – you have succumbed to the scourge:

Do you find yourself shouting at the television, threatening to stab your eyes out with the remote because you are sick to the very pit of your being of the same sorry faces fronting and starring in mind-numbing repetitive cookery, reality or ‘fun’ game shows? “Make it stop,” you cry, “‘it’s like Ground Hog day in hell” while your family – gathered around you in a zombified state – keep stuffing their faces, wondering what all the fuss is about. Why can’t you just shut up and watch X Factor In A Jungle On Ice With Some Dancing, just like everybody else?

Do you find yourself rolling your eyes in open disgust at the news that people have christened their offspring Britney, Rihanna, Beyonce or Paris? Do you shrivel up in self-loathing when you realise that despite never watching single episode of Jersey ShoreKeeping Up With the Kardashians etc, you have a more than vague knowledge of their ‘stars’ and ‘plotlines’? The resulting shame makes your blood thicken.

A trip to the supermarket is pure torture, as you lurch from aisle to aisle seeking out products that are not endorsed by a celebrity, whose shit-eating smiles beam at you from the labels of everything from baked beans to tampons. Do you mutter to yourself, “can I not just buy a few groceries in peace anymore?” even though the answer is quiet obviously a blimp-sized “no”?

Finally, and most crucially, does just glancing at the Daily Mail homepage bring you out in scores of oozing sores, leaving you jabbering like a lobotomised ferret, trying to banish the images of ill-fitting bikinis, staged love affairs and weight loss speculation from your mind? Alas, once such mind rot is seen, it can never be unseen as sufferers of C.F.S. know only too well.

Treatment for C.F.S. is relatively straightforward: throw out your TV, bin all newspapers and magazines, unplug the Internet, smash up your phone, sell the house and move to a small Scandinavian village with a population of 52 and no mobile connection. Failing all that, moving into a nuclear bunker might be an idea.

A bit excessive? Definitely. Probably futile? Yes; after all, it is only a matter of time before celebrities start projecting images of their plastic surgery adventures onto the surface of the moon – the ultimate billboard campaign, if you will. In the meantime, stay strong C.F.S. suffers. I know it isn’t easy – having healthy levels of common sense rarely is in this daft world of ours – but keep muddling along together until such a time as you can’t sit on the loo of your local pub without a picture of a celeb staring back at… oh, wait, nevermind.

This article originally appeared on the Huffington Post.

4 responses

  1. Oh yes, definitely a bout of C.F.S. coming on here I’m afraid. Oh, and this got me thinking (it happens) about the “expert syndrome” in our culture. Do you remember for a few years we had all those folks in white coats pledging to us that “research/science/your cat or whatever” states that this thing or that is good or desirable for us all? Now, it’s the celebrities. They have the white lab coats on now. And we can trust them, right?

    • Yep, I’ve wondered the same thing David. Who examines these people’s credentials? There was a high profile case this side of the pond where a bestselling celebrity nutritionist had to drop the ‘doctor’ from her title because her PhD was proven to be bogus but that was after she’d had numerous TV shows, diet books etc Many so-called experts leave a lot to be desired.

  2. hahaha nice. I don’t have any problems because I don’t have a TV, buy all my groceries at the local farmer’s market/ cooperative, don’t read magazines (why on earth would anyone pay to read stuff that any fool can make up – and probably has) and on the rare occasions that I’m at a supermarket, I shop in the self-serve checkout (which lacks both magazine racks and candy racks!). I only read liberal newspapers get all my other entertainment from ad-free online streamed versions (video) and liberal blogs and RSS feeds (ad free). On the rare occasions that I use an internet browser I don’t have to worry about hideous ads because I have ad blocker (on all three internet browsers on my computer, and I paid the guy- in your face ad spammers). So yea, I’m living the high-life hermetically sealed off from all trashy crap. Only one of my friends has a tv (that’s hooked up to the tv broadcast system and not online streamed stuff) and she keeps it turned off while I’m there. TV-free since 2003 and loving it 😉 More so after reading this rant.

    • Brilliant comment! I loved reading it. I too, do not have a TV. If anything, it has gotten easier over the years to do without and it only take ten minutes of television watching at my parents hose to remind me I’m not missing a jot. All those stations and there’s nothing on but complete garbage, bar some of the history/current affairs stuff. I really admire your stance on the whole ‘trashy culture’ thing. It seems to be everywhere, until make a conscious effort to seek out something more meaningful and fence off all the crap.

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