There’s been a slew of articles about Simon Cowell recently. The famously camp bachelor with little Cuban heels and a glittery pair of moobs named Squiddly and Diddly – oops sorry, those are his tiny dogs – has had a baby. But he’s also found time to back a musical about The X Factor called I Can’t Sing! Exclamation is his, not mine, FYI. Neat title aside, it’s impressively self-deprecating for a man who I’d assumed took himself terrible seriously. Nigel Harman (fitty from Eastenders way back), who will be playing Cowell, told The Sunday Times Culture that he sought some advice from the big man himself, on how to play his role. Cowell’s reply? “Just go out there, every day and act like a d*ck.”
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My love for Cowell was instant, upon reading this. How fricking awesome is it that in one off-the-cuff, throwaway comment, he admits not only that he is a ‘d*ck’, but that he gives not one squiddly or diddly about it. In admitting so, he’s almost negated any prickiness on his part. The moment that you ‘own’ your behaviour – “yeah, I’m a f-ing tw*t!”– you are 9/10ths of the way to wiping the slate clean. You can’t criticise someone nearly so much when they’ve already admitted their own shortcomings.
I mean, did I like her? I don’t know her (case in point, lady), so I can’t really say. She’d lived there just 6 months and as I said, differing routines. But she always struck me as abrasive and entitled and used to buzz my doorbell to ask me questions through the intercom, instead of deigning to come and knock upon my door. It’s now clear that she didn’t like me. So I guess neither of us was batshit crazy about one another; it just wasn’t verbalised. So far, so normal then… until this morning. Her unexpected razor cut of honesty was hard to swallow – she went inside before I could clarify ‘why’, which was the most annoying bit; one can only assume I have a really really bad Bitchy Resting Face? – but I’m also wondering if it was quite refreshing.
Do I wish Princess Pedicure had held her tongue and just moved out? Sure. It doesn’t behove someone to be a cow apropos of nothing. And, of course, it’s cowardly to throw a comment like that out when you’re about to move out. At least do it when you’re still living there, love, so we can both deal with the subsequently lols levels of awkwardness. That’d have had some point to it, at least. But I have to admire her honesty. I guess in saying what she said, my now erstwhile nightmare neighbour was cutting our the fakery that exists on a daily basis, even between best friends (hate your friend's top? Tell her you love it! etc.) She missed a trick, though. If only she’d got one step further, like Simon Cowell. Then we could have both faced each other on the stairs and cheerfully told one another that today, we were both going to be dickheads. Perhaps once you’ve got that disclaimer out there – you can say pretty much anything, to anybody.
Kudos to Cowell. We are in the midst of an all-seeing all-knowing exhaustive quest to present ourselves as perfect, via social media; but it would surely help all of us just to ‘fess up and be honest about when we’ve been d*ckheads. To illustrate, I was really thrown this morning by my neighbour who I hardly know, from a flat two floors down, telling me rather gracelessly that she was glad she was moving out “because then I won’t have to see you everyday”. A lot to deal with at 8.30am when I was dragging my half-asleep ass out the door, that was. If we’re being really pedantic – of course we are! – we could point out that given our largely differing routines, she didn’t see me everyday. She had a rich lady routine that seemed to entail perpetual pedicures (unless she just loved wearing flip-flops in January.) Pedantry aside, we could also look at the fact that in common culture, if you prefer not to see someone it’s best not to actually tell them that. Love thy neighbour, etc. But lastly and most painfully, I could perhaps acknowledge that her honesty is liberating.
I mean, did I like her? I don’t know her (case in point, lady), so I can’t really say. She’d lived there just 6 months and as I said, differing routines. But she always struck me as abrasive and entitled and used to buzz my doorbell to ask me questions through the intercom, instead of deigning to come and knock upon my door. It’s now clear that she didn’t like me. So I guess neither of us was batshit crazy about one another; it just wasn’t verbalised. So far, so normal then… until this morning. Her unexpected razor cut of honesty was hard to swallow – she went inside before I could clarify ‘why’, which was the most annoying bit; one can only assume I have a really really bad Bitchy Resting Face? – but I’m also wondering if it was quite refreshing.
Do I wish Princess Pedicure had held her tongue and just moved out? Sure. It doesn’t behove someone to be a cow apropos of nothing. And, of course, it’s cowardly to throw a comment like that out when you’re about to move out. At least do it when you’re still living there, love, so we can both deal with the subsequently lols levels of awkwardness. That’d have had some point to it, at least. But I have to admire her honesty. I guess in saying what she said, my now erstwhile nightmare neighbour was cutting our the fakery that exists on a daily basis, even between best friends (hate your friend's top? Tell her you love it! etc.) She missed a trick, though. If only she’d got one step further, like Simon Cowell. Then we could have both faced each other on the stairs and cheerfully told one another that today, we were both going to be dickheads. Perhaps once you’ve got that disclaimer out there – you can say pretty much anything, to anybody.