Despite my considerable literary talent and comedic brilliance, my natural humility prevents me from behaving like a super-mega star.
I’m content to remain an ordinary, everyday genius.
Anyone can approach me in the street, put out their hand to shake mine and, whatever their status in society may be, I’ll treat them all equally.
I completely ignore them and walk on, loudly humming a selection from “Brigadoon” to drown out their cries of “You big-headed so and so!”
Not everyone in the public eye behaves so decently.
The papers are peppered with photos of C-listers I’ve never heard of – because I avoid reality TV & soaps – and famous stars being ‘papped’ by the paparazzi while publicly falling out with their partners . . . or just falling out of London nightclubs at four in the morning worse the wear after one lemonade shandy too many.
The Welsh ‘Pappers’ (as opposed to the ‘Mammers’ – a joke for fans of 60s California folk rock) rarely follow me around local nightspots, which is why you’ll never see pictures of me falling out of my local village hall at 8.30pm.after a heavy bingo session.
Proof that super-mega stars live in a rarified world, far removed from ours and feel entitled to behave differently, was illustrated in a news item I saw about the ‘eccentric’ behaviour of Madonna when she was rushed to the Emergency Room of an American hospital.
When a doctor asked her a series of questions to help determine what was wrong with her, rather than answer the doctordirectly, Madonna instead grandly gave her responses to her loyal PA, who, in turn, passed them on to the doctor!
Can you imagine the ludicrous conversation?
Doctor: Where exactly are you in pain?
Madonna: Tell him it’s in my lower back.
PA: She says it’s in her lower back.
Doctor: As I gently press your back, tell me where the pain is worse.
Madonna: Ouch! Tell him it’s just there!
PA:  She said Ouch! It’s just there!
And so on . . .
Just one reason I’m so glad I restrained myself from becoming a super-mega star.