JMorgan

Last updated 01:00, Thursday, 27 September 2007

I USUALLY have as much sympathy for harassed celebrities as I have for plague-carrying rats. Oh come on, is there a sound more irritating than an over-paid, under-talented star whingeing on about the trials of life in celeb world?

They spend half their careers going to desperate measures so that photographers will snap their picture, and the other half moaning about intrusion.

“It’s incredibly hard being soooo famous,’’ they belly-ache from their LA mansions. Well, give up the parties, the crazy girlfriends, the drink and drugs, the inability to wear knickers in public, the egos and tantrums and see how quickly we become bored of you.

Celebs never seem to understand that if they want to be so famous we are willing to pay for their CDs or go to see their films and if they are cocooned in fabulous existences, then it is also unavoidable that we want to know everything about them, particularly their tragedies and bad cellulite.

Many of Hollywood’s talented actors manage to live a reasonably unhassled life since they know that living a happy, normal life with supportive friends and loving family is the kiss of death to scandal.

However, I did feel sorry for the biggest current player in celeb world Angelina Jolie. In an incredibly hyped-up article in one of my favourite gossip magazines, she and Brad Pitt were said to be on the verge of splitting.

Ooh, I thought, what now, it must be something big to be a three-page spread. Well, according to the piece Angelina has been drinking too much red wine at a party and had slightly annoyed Brad in front of his mate. Also she’s allegedly been chatting, in earshot of other folks, about how Brad is sometimes rubbish with money and how the passion can fade when you’re tired with four kids under five.

I can’t tell you how this made me warm to the super-goddess Angie. All she did was get tipsy, act a bit silly in public, slag her boyfriend off and was too exhausted for hanky-panky. I would say that describes most women’s weekends.

After reading that total rubbish in the mag, my heart went out to Angelina. It’s one thing for your relationship to be on the rocks because you can’t decide which penthouse to live in, or because one of the partner’s is addicted to lap-dancing clubs or the filming of a multi-million pound movie is too stressful.

But if Brad can’t handle a woman who simply likes a drop of Shiraz and who falls asleep reading Bob the Builder to her kids, he really needs to give himself a shake.