Occasionally
I find myself drawn to people I loathe and I seem to get some
masochistic pleasure out of loathing them.
I
suspect I am not alone in this - why else would so many people follow
the professional media trolls who fill the columns of newspapers? Not
being alone in this unsavoury habit does not make it acceptable.
It is a complete waste of time and energy. We get one life, and
even if we get several, why waste them loathing people? A point
that is far more pertinent is why waste them loathing people I don't
know?
My
most recent bête noire was Liz Jones, a columnist for the Mail on
Sunday. I don't buy or read The Mail. My mother buys it,
and the day I most usually visit her is a Sunday. I can't bring
myself to read the paper, but whilst mum is taking an age to get
ready for us to go out, I will flick through one of its magazines.
About two months ago, I started at the back of a magazine and
found Ms Jones' column. It was dreadful; self-obsessed,
completely lacking in self-awareness, trite and painfully boring. I
couldn't believe someone not only got paid to write it, but also
seemed to make a living out of just writing it. I was incensed.
For the next few Sundays, I sought out her column the minute I
arrived, working myself into self-righteous indignation as I read. I
thought about writing a parody. I thought about writing a blog
replying to each vacuous comment she made. Finally I thought
about getting a life and instantly gave up my Liz Jones addiction.
That is why she has that column, so people like me can enjoy
hating her - even if only for a few weeks.
She
is far from my first anti-crush. Twitter has introduced me to
dozens of people I may never have encountered in sufficient measures
to despise them as much as I did. For months I hated both
Louise Mensch and Owen Jones simultaneously, due to the frequency
with which their retweeted comments appeared on my Twitter feed. I
would sometimes sink to searching one of their profiles, to feed my
hatred. I started to think they were one person, imagining Mensch-Jones sat in a dark cave, tweeting
like a demon, first in favour of the left then supporting the right,
possessed of some freakish, Misfits-style superpower intent on
irritating as many people as possible . It would be a truly
crap superpower (admittedly not as crap as loathing strangers), but
totally in keeping with Misfits. Even now that I am cured of
this particular anti-crush, I occasionally resort to replying to a
retweeted comment by Ms Mensch if it is sufficiently smug. Needless
to say, she has never acknowledged these comments, exacerbating the
futility of such loathing.
I
tried to work out if there was anything my anti-crush collection had
in common - Mensch; Jones, O.; Jones, E.; Bleakley; Vorderman; Blair;
Ronaldo; Cowell; Ramsey; Oliver; to name but a few. I wonder if
it is self-confidence; my lack of confidence loathing each one of them for their abundance of it? Is it the fact that for a while each one of
them has been all over the media like a rash and I just got sick of
them? I used to quite like Gordon Ramsey and Jamie Oliver, even Blair
was OK for a short while in 1997. I suspect it is more that I
have an addictive personality and I occasionally sink to being
addicted to despising complete strangers for no good reason at all.
Surprisingly
two people who are seemingly loathed by millions have escaped my
addiction to stranger-loathing. One I find so devoid of any
redeeming features I prefer to deny their existence. The other
is Piers Morgan. I don't like him, I do frequently think he is
complete arse, but I can't loathe him. Of late I have actually
found myself warming to him. So many people are so completely
vile about him, but he remains as chirpy and smug as ever. More
to the point he remains as chirpy, smug and employed as ever. No
matter how thick your skin, it has to occasionally hurt to have so
many people be so vile about you, but Morgan never seems to show
anything but self-confidence. As smug as he may be, I admire
that and wish I possessed a fraction of his self-belief.
