No. 41 International Celebrity Death Threat Day

When asked as to whether he thought Ringo Starr was the best drummer in the world, John Lennon famously replied: “He’s not even the best drummer in The Beatles.” Nor was he much of a singer, as anybody who’s given ‘Don’t Pass Me By’ on the White Album a quick listen, will attest to.

Following their self-destruction the other three members of The Beatles went on to forge successful solo careers, whereas Ringo went on to get royally pissed and narrate a kid’s TV show about a train with a face. Most recently he managed to upset the city of Liverpool (Not the trickiest of achievements, I admit) by saying there was absolutely ‘nothing’ about his hometown that he missed; except of course the opportunity to use it in the title of the latest solo flop he was promoting named Liverpool 8. An album that entered the charts at the heady heights of number 91.

And then last week he told his fan(s?) not to bother writing anymore letters to him, as any received after October 20th would be consigned to the bin with the utmost of urgency. Which beggars the question just why is anybody still writing to this evidently ungrateful and discourteous drummer?

Jeffman has never seen the fascination with idolising multi-millionaire celebrities to the point of actually writing to them; or hanging around outside their houses into the wee small hours of the morning; or even getting a restraining order placed upon one’s self.

I’d sooner listen to an album then go out and get drunk. I’ve not the slightest desire to make contact with the recording artist and massage an ego that is already so bloated it requires storage in a spare mansion or two.

If it makes you happy then knock yourself bandy, but I’m far too jaded to hold truck with such folly, let alone believe that in the vast majority of cases they actually reach their intended target.

Your average celeb/filmstar/rockstar enjoying the multi-billionaire lifestyle in their tax haven as far away as possible from the country and people that gave them their success in the first place, is probably far too busy counting their piles of cash or thinking up ways of getting a few more column inches in the newspapers to bother with reading the innermost thoughts of an overly-obsessed fan. Hence they pay somebody else to do it for them, or take the Ringo Starr action of diverting it straight to the wastepaper basket.

The only correspondence that should really be carried out with these ungrateful Prima Donnas is through death threats. That has the tendency to get you noticed, so long as you’re consistent and willing to put the hours in. Maybe they could designate an annual event especially for it, as done with ‘Talk like a Pirate Day’.

International Celebrity Death Threat Day!

With the amount of nutters out there in internet land, it could well take off…

What? Have I gone too far?

Legal Note: If you are stupid enough to send death threats to celebrities, don’t be surprised when the police haul you off to the nearest jail, where you’ll inevitably live out the rest of your days performing wifely duties to a 20 stone sex case named Bernard or Bernadette.

You have been warned!

Like the cut of my jib? Wanting more? Then subscribe to my RSS Feed.