YES, yes. Democracies are dying, women and children are being raped and enslaved in Afghanistan, we’re in the midst of a global pandemic and the planet is about to self-combust.
But delay your compassion fatigue for one minute, and spare a thought for poor Laura Whitmore.
The beautiful, millionaire host of Love Island is very, very upset.
The poor lass has taken huge offence to the “triggering language” used in an interview she did with respected newspaper The Times.
Offending phrases? “Skips off” (sexist) and “well-behaved baby” (unfair, apparently, on “well- behaved babies with other issues”.)
Laura also took to Twitter to hit out at the interviewer — a man who recently shone a light on the troubles of disabled kids during lockdown, China’s appalling treatment of its Muslim Uighurs, and the plight of the over-burdened NHS — for the “frustrating narrative” of asking questions about her daughter.
Laura’s own humanitarian work, meanwhile, escapes me. She did, though, chart at number 37 in FHM’s Sexiest Woman in 2015.
The presenter, dividing her time between Mallorca and London, is not exactly shovelling coal down a mine.
Instead, paid a huge six-figure salary, she was presumably contractually obliged to partake in this onerous interview to flog her latest sportswear brand.
Indeed, at the end of the lovely, soft brutal Spanish Inquisition was a lengthy plug, in bold, plus a handy website link to her said fitness collection.
If Laura wanted to promote her fashion line, she could have taken out a full-page advertorial in The Times instead.
Alternatively, she could have asked for copy approval, and made sure she was entirely happy with the piece prior to publication.
But she didn’t.
Instead, by publicly tweeting her scorn, she invited a “pile-on” to both the newspaper, and the journalist, encouraging her 900,000 social-media followers to express their opprobrium at such monstrous coverage. Though many, thankfully, saw through her tweets, accusing her of rank hypocrisy, or suggesting, quite rightly, that there may be bigger things in the world to worry about right now.
This is the second time Laura has ranted at a journalist.
In May, she branded an Irish reporter “vile”.
The writer’s crime? Sending a polite email to Laura’s publicist, enquiring about the name of her daughter — which I won’t repeat here, as per Laura’s wishes.
The journalist was deluged with rancour from some of Laura’s more mindless fans.
For a woman preaching #bekind — a sentiment lifted from her late friend and former Love Island host Caroline Flack, whose job she took over on the ITV2 show — it all seems slightly incongruous.
Of course, Laura is entitled to privacy. And she’s absolutely right that her daughter should have every expectation of that, too.
But while Laura was heavily pregnant, she posed for a high-end magazine wearing black- lace underwear and a denim jacket. In another photo she wore a black leather coat, three-inch heels and satin underwear on display.
Since giving birth, the privacy-loving star has posted a photo of herself breastfeeding on to her (public) Instagram account. She added, shyly: “I had a positive birth with thankfully no complications and a baby that LOVES the boob (and Jaysus those boobs are looking good!).”
Laura has been paid, handsomely, to promote firms including Nintendo, Moonpig and sugar-watered conglomerate Coca-Cola.
Put simply, you can’t have it both ways, Laura.
You can’t court the Press when it suits you and turn against it when they ask questions that you once asked as a video jockey for a satellite pop music station.
Off screen, I’m told Laura is lovely and funny, and I’m sure she boasts a wonderful set of friends who all adore her. But she needs a reality check.
It was Laura herself who told listeners to her Radio 5 show that “words affect people”, adding that anyone who has made “mean, unnecessary comments on an online forum — they need to look at themselves”.
Perhaps it’s about time former model Laura got a new dressing-room mirror.
JAKE DAVISON wasn’t a fat, insecure “incel” – he was a cold-blooded killer.
By allowing this monster, who had an obsession with guns and violent computer games since the age of five, to hide behind a label – another group of women-hating misfits – we’re romanticising him.
He didn’t have a cause. He was just a twisted psychopath who ruthlessly murdered five innocent people, including a three-year-old girl, during his hate-fuelled killing spree in Plymouth.
My friend from uni, an NHS paediatrician, was friends with the mother of that little girl and her husband, who was killed trying to defend her.
How Devon and Cornwall Police saw fit to return Davison’s gun licence to him, despite his threatening online presence and a previous “altercation”, beggars belief.
They reckoned a few “anger-management” classes had cured him.
That’s akin to giving an alcoholic in AA two bottles of vodka, and wishing him well.
Madness.
ANOTHER day, another celeb coming out as queer.
Hot on the Manolo Blahniks – or Doc Martens if I’m not to be gender-conformist – of talented The Crown star Emma Corrin, former supermodel Lily Cole has declared herself “not straight”.
Back in my day, “queer” was a pejorative term.
Now it’s being proudly reclaimed by millennials, and is, well, cool.
It’s great that these young stars, who have a huge, impressionable following, are making sexuality such a non-issue.
Last weekend I was at the wedding of two male friends, whose ring-bearers were two young kids.
These boys will grow up assuming gay marriage is completely, utterly normal, and won’t comprehend the years of stigma and abuse gay people have endured over the years.
And that’s a wonderful thing.
SWIMMER Adam Peaty recently announced that he was taking some time off to prioritise his mental health.
So how’s he resting up?
By putting himself up for Britain’s biggest TV show, Strictly Come Dancing, wearing some sequins, Lycra and heavy fake-tan.
Forget therapy, or some nice candles and a hot bath, the brilliant Olympic champ – who won two golds and a silver at Tokyo – reckons the foxtrot in front of 12million avid armchair critics is just what the doctor ordered.
A lesson, perhaps, to all those celebrities bleating about the pressures of fame.
