I never bother with the big celebrity fundraising bashes. They seem to raise money for charity, but seem equally to show what sad, attention seeking media whores many celebrities are, especially when their careers are hurtling south.
There are millions of people, all over the country raising money in all kinds of ways, some weird, some wonderful others downright daft, every day of the week. They are the heroes, and they get little publicity except maybe a thank you and a write up in a charity's newsletter or a small piece in the local rag.
I always thought that artistic types had imagination. That they could imagine what living in a luxurious mansion might be like. Or what living on a desert island might be like. But no, this year we have the sickening prospect of watching Lenny Henry and a few others staying in a Bombay slum for a week to 'experience a lifetime in dire poverty'. Patronising pap. The sight of Lenny Henry blubbing on national TV makes me reach for the sick bag whenever I see the trailer. At least he is now described as a 'celebrity', much more accurate than describing him as a 'comedian'.
I was educated at primary school by Franciscans, many of whom spent years of their lives living in the poorest parts of the world helping the poorest people in the world. They, and the people who run marathons, pack bags at the local supermarket and absail down skyscrapers are the people I really admire, not publicity starved z-listers.