Ready For My Close-up.


I feel for the camera operators who had dreams of doing groundbreaking work, but get to film the torsos of fat people on the street for reports on obesity instead.

It’s like the folk who photograph kebabs for takeaway menus, or Piers Morgan’s co-hosts on Good Morning Britain: they do a job no-one would envy. There are plenty who are worse-off, but their occupation still can’t bring much satisfaction; imagine being Susanna Reid just for a moment; she swapped cuddly Bill Turnbull for the Devil incarnate and can never go back.

Whenever I see a news article about the overweight (of which I regrettably currently find myself on the cusp) I wonder if the people in the footage signed a release form for it; you’d have to be pretty fame-hungry (poor choice of wording) to agree to be featured in this context, even if your anonymity is reasonably secure. Or is the midriff copyright free? I don’t whore my trunk out for just anybody.

Still, I suppose it could be worse; you could be the person who zooms in on the balls during the National Lottery draw; when it comes to working in TV, things don't get much duller than that.

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