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Bob Shields; A ROUGH DIAMOND Anne and her has-been pals should all go home.

Byline: Bob Shields

IT'S something people crave when they haven't got it. Say they hate when they have got it. And want it even more when it's taken away from them.

It's what makes half-a-million kids queue to be publicly humiliated. What induces adults to volunteer to live on remote islands, in jungles or in a house full of people even more mentally disturbed than they are.

Some people will do absolutely anything for it. Actress Sharon Stone summed up the most degrading part of the process when she pronounced "Well, you can only f*** your way to the middle".

Yes, we're talking about fame here - the new opium of the 21st century.

Little boys don't want to play for their local teams anymore - they want to be famous footballers.

A 536 game, 15-year career with Aberdeen or Hibs isn't what it's about. They want a different Ferrari every day of the week and a different Jordan every night.

Drama students don't want to be actors, they want to be movie stars. Musicians don't want to be entertainers, they want to be rock stars. Fame is a drug. And some of its addicts strutted on to our screens again this week in Celebrity Big Brother.

Look at Anne Diamond. There was a time when she wouldn't put the bin out without an hour in make-up.

She was queen of TV-AM and didn't she love to reign over us. Then she lost her crown.

But being a welly-booted country mum was never going to be enough for La Diamond. The fame addict in her would never go away.

So, on Wednesday night, she walked back into the limelight looking like Demis Roussos.

That full-length, hide-everything, woollen coat wasn't in cable stitch - it was in gable stitch.

The old Anne Diamond wouldn't have been seen dead looking like that. Now she doesn't care how she looks - just as long as she's seen.

It's the same with Sue Perkins - the "wit-girl" of the mid-90's who disappeared up her own ego.

I once went to London to interview the famous Mel and Sue comedy combo. This week, I'd get more laughs at a fire station. Just when the Record photographer had set up his lights, the girls decided they weren't going to "do pictures today".

"It's been a long day. We're tired and there's no make-up girl," they mewled. Now, Sue pops up on Big Brother without a vanity case in sight.

At the peak of her "fame", she didn't want a million Record readers to see her without her lipstick being right.

Back to being a nonentity, she's suddenly happy to let several million TV viewers share her every yawn, bum-scratch, eyebrow-pluck and bowel movement.

The rest are more or less out of othe same tacky mould.

Melinda Messenger wants to show the world she's more than just some blonde tottie. For Les Dennis, substitute the world "tottie" with "diddy".

Mark Owen obviously wants to resurrect himself and, if Goldie was chocolate, he would eat himself.

I want them to go back to their own houses. And stay out of mine.

b.shields@dailyrecord.co.uk

Brut Barrie is gone - I hope he's heaven scent

GEORGE BARRIE is dead. And every man over the age of 40 should be mourning his passing.

It was George who gave us `Brut' - the splash-it-all-over cologne made famous by Henry Cooper and Kevin Keegan. I got gallons of it for my 21st birthday. In fact, I've still got half a dozen bottles in the back of my wardrobe. It's probably just about drinkable by now.

George sold his Faberge company for zillions and retired to Florida to fly his jet, parachute, sail, golf, play tennis, write songs on his piano and cook gourmet Italian food.

Not a bad life, George. I just hope you're heaven scent.

Run Scott to remain

NOW that I'm a marathon veteran, I'm getting all sorts of invites to repeat the ordeal. Er ... not today folks.

But I've been asked to highlight the possible demise of the famous Tom Scott Road Race, due to lack of funds.

The race commemorates one of Scotland's most talented runners who was killed in 1962.

For 40 years, Law and District AAC have held a 10-mile race along the road Tom ran every morning, from Law to his former workplace in Motherwell.

It would be a shame for such a wonderful event to slip into history. If anyone can help, contact me at the Record and I'll pass on details.

Our big goal

IF you've a few hours to spare tomorrow, get down to Broadwood, home of Clyde FC.

I'm the guest goalkeeper in a charity half-time shoot-out - with all proceeds going to our Save Our Kids appeal to help bullied children.

If any of you out there are the penalty takers, the good news is I've got a sore leg.

The bad news is - I'm not telling you which one.

Oh, and you can also watch Clyde take on table-topping Falkirk.

No songs about eating pies will be allowed.

Don't ask about pet subjects..

WILLIE is looking for a dog to keep his father company now that his mother has passed away. His pal Sammy spots an advert in the local paper.

"For Sale: Talking dog - pounds 20". Willie reckons this is the very dog for his lonely father.

They arrive at the address advertised where they are welcomed by Eddie.

"Just go in and chat to the dog," he says. "I'm in the middle of making my tea."

The dog is sitting on the settee and invites the boys to sit down. Willie and Sammy are looking for some kind of tape recorder or other trickery.

"It's no gimmick, lads - I really can talk," says the dog. "Ask me something."

"H-h-how did you learn to speak?" says a shocked Sammy.

"Well, I was specially bred from some of the cleverest sniffer dogs, guide dogs and sheep dogs in the world. I was sent as a pup to NATO and trained in linguistics and espionage.

"My first active service was in the Gulf war. I befriended Saddam Hussein and his army counsel. I got to spy on their troop movements.

"I escaped to the Allies and helped plan the assault on Basra, Saddam's surrender and the liberation of Kuwait. The President gave me a Purple Heart.

"I was seconded to MI5 and the SAS after that. I infiltrated the IRA army counsel in Belfast and my intelligence helped lead to the peace talks, disarmament and the Good Friday Agreement. Your Queen gave me the George Cross.

"After that came the war in Afghanistan. I was parachuted into the Bora Bora mountains and befriended Bin Laden and his commanders. I escaped with enough intelligence to help the Allies plan the invasion and capture of Kabul.

"The President gave me the Congressional Medal of Honour and The Queen gave me a Knighthood.

"I was retired on a five-star general's pension and met Eddie while on a walking holiday in Scotland."

Willie and Sammy are entranced.

They rush to the kitchen and ask Eddie. "Are you sure you want to sell him for just 20 quid?"

"Too right I do," says an exasperated Eddie. "Have you ever heard a dug talk so much s***e in all your life?"

It's a load of bull, Ma'am

THE TV news is full of Princess Anne and English bull terriers.

Almost no neck, wiry hair, pug-faced and threatening to rip you to shreds.

And the dogs didn't look too clever either.
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Title Annotation:Features
Publication:Daily Record (Glasgow, Scotland)
Date:Nov 23, 2002
Words:1259
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