A Hunger for Fame

 

Dancing Figures
Max Weber (1881-1961)
Photo Credit: University of Reading [CC BY-NC-SA]

As Graziano Di Prima follows Giovanni Pernice out of Strictly Come Dancing, defenestrated for similar alleged offences around being a bit "tough" in training sessions, I have to say they have my sympathy. Because those celebrity contestants deserve everything they get.

These dreary newsreaders, ex-politicians, bit-part actors and half-arsed chefs present themselves (after relentless petitioning by agents) for the annual ritual humiliation purely in the hope of becoming more famous and turning a buck. The newsy ones want a chat show, the politicos want a gig on daytime telly and the actors want to persuade us they are more than  mere glove puppets (which they aren't) and deserve another crack at the big time. They think this is a shortcut. And being knocked about a bit by some greasy Italian hoofer is the very least their vanity deserves.

Hunger for fame is ugly. It is the worst possible motivation for anything. These professional dancers have gone through physical and mental hell to get their own sad little spear-carrying jobs and then these narcissistic hams show up hoping to use them as a stepladder to a crack at Doctor Who or the Mastermind chair or some unwatchable celebrity travel show. And their instinct is to shout at them and knock them about a bit, as mine would be.

(Giles Coren, The Times, 2024)