The Cost of Fame

I have worked with many very famous people. In making films you get to meet stars. Everyone from Mickey Rooney, with nods to Roger Moore, Peter Finch, Michael Caine, Shelley Winters, Twiggy, Vincent Price, Ray Milland, Sir John Gielgud, Rita Tushingham, Barbra Parkin, novelists like Wilbur Smith, groups like The Who and Deep Purple. I have known and worked with these and many others of their ilk. Their fame allows you access to other famous people. Of course none of these people are being described by me here.

There is a cost of fame. You could see it on the face of Heather Mills outside the Divorce Court in London. There is a seemingly insane desire to be seen to be in the right if you are a seeker of fame. Being rich and famous means that you are surrounded by people telling you how wonderful you are, all day, every day. No one ever tells you that what you say or do might be wrong. Those that are close to you generally rely on you for their money, lifestyle or simple affirmation of fame by association.

Heather Mills does not know how out of touch she is. Poor Heather cannot see that the near twenty five million pounds Paul is having to pay her in a divorce settlement should be enough for Heather to pay for the A class travel she thinks their daughter is entitled. Heather wants more. Could I apply to Paul for adoption?

Another thing I have noticed with very famous people is that their faces become very smooth, like a baby's bum. I don't really know why this is, but I am sure I am on to some new Newtonian law of evolution that no one else has noticed. Rich, famous people get smoother skin. Of course it could be that they can afford more time and money in very pampering and expensive spas.

I was once traveling in a helicopter with a very famous pop star, who had made many millions of pounds. He was pilot and I was his very nervous passenger. He looked down at the traffic stuck in traffic jams on the roads below us and turned to me, "I don't understand why more people don't use helicopters." he said, not thinking for a second that it was because we can't afford them. Another perfect example of being in an entirely different world to you or me.

There was another when an equally successful singer from another rock band invited me to his just completed hotel for dinner. He had built this gorgeous place in the English countryside complete with guitar shaped pool. Every room was a state of the art suite, and the kitchen was both huge and magnificent. He had invested many millions of pounds. He had asked me there to give an opinion on his new venture and how profitable this investment would be. Simple arithmetic meant that if each of his suites was full every night for the next two hundred years he would never reach profit. When I told him the sad news he became upset, not with his advisers who let him get into this situation, but with me for telling him that the Emperor had no clothes.

It's a synergistic situation, the rich and famous and their coterie of brown nosing friends. Both feed of each other and its hard to fit in if you're honest, or don't need to eat rubbish for a living. Let's face facts, it must be great to be told how beautiful, rich, talented, desirable and incredible you are every day. It isn't quite like that for me and my friends and family. I suppose they love and like me, but there are reservations. If I do something particularly stupid I hope they tell me, and in fact I'm sure they will.

Who's happier? I think I am, because its better to remember who you are. When victorious generals returned to ancient Rome for their triumphal processions there was a man who stood behind them as they drove their chariots through the adoring crowds, his job, to whisper in the general's ear, "remember you are mortal." In our fame obsessed culture more rich and famous people would do well to remember that they are just men and women. Like they say in the States, get over themselves!