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The Ancients believed that two different worlds existed , the Apparent (or perceived) world of everyday events and another , Real world ,
shrouded in mystery but accessible to finely-tuned adepts. That everything around us is not what it appears to be is a common
starting-point for most religious and philosophical systems. This division of what confronts us , between a mundane world of the senses
and a transcendent world that can be revealed by faith or deep thinking , is probably a consequence of thoughts themselves. We can
assume that Evolution developed an inner world of ideas in order to facilitate the preservation of its large-brained animal host. That
purpose was served well in identifying the objects of desire , along with the means for taking possession of them : the capture of food ,
the provision of shelter and defensive strategies of response to predatory attack. However , in the case of homo sapiens , cerebral
activity soon turned to the endless augmentation of his 'needs'. Once the basic requirements of existence had been settled , then prestige ,
megalomania , neighbours’ wives , conquering and pillaging , palaces , opiates and grandiose tombs came into being.
Some later men explored the exotic world of microbes and bacteria ; others probed the subatomic world where quantum physics reigns ;
cosmologists peered into the vast immensities of Space and Time. The majority of men viewed such activities as rather similar to those
table-tapping séances , where messages ‘from beyond’ are equally impenetrable. They preferred to get by with the least possible
expenditure of thought and would be pandered to by burgeoning industries of entertainment and marketing which put crowns upon their heads
and sceptres in their hands. Thereby they might bid an endless cascade of fun , excitement and visionary luxury to appear before them at
the press of a button. Advertisers could transform whole populations into mad Roman emperors demanding to alter the course of the sun ,
to bring back the past and foretell the future , to receive and bestow endless felicity and to banish visitations of misery and want to
the News At Ten. What more could the happy converts to Consumer Capitalism possibly require ? Well , there was also Fame.
Everyman’s share of the stage is dimly-lit , modestly furnished and subject to the daily grind but over on the other side , flash-bulbs
of the paparazzi are flashing and champagne corks are popping ; microphones wave in the air and cameras roll as another legend of
our times takes the air. According to best PR mythology , the world of celebrity is one of glitter and glamour , of heaving bosoms and personal
fitness trainers , of private swimming pools , retinues of accountants and minders , of hearts won over by a pleasing smile. Through tabloid
binoculars , it’s a world of love nests and rehab clinics , of custody battles and night club incidents , of love rats and back-stabbing.
All played out in the spotlight’s glare , before fame’s fickle hour is done and the media bandwagon moves on to aspirants new.
One’s position in the cultural pyramid had formerly been dependant upon assets such as talent and intelligence or acquisitions such
as wit and wisdom. Now the all-important determinant became the number of appearances one had made on television screens , in the newspapers
or magazines. Multilingual boffins of European origin , venerable curators of culture and pipe-smoking brains-trusters were consigned , bums
still on their Chippendale seats , to the Olde Curiosity Shoppe. They were replaced in studios decked out like spacecraft interiors by foul-
mouthed 'celebrity' chefs and homely Yorkshire gardeners , one-hit songsters , jaunty property advisers , brash motoring enthusiasts and
chirpy game-show hosts. The world of the imagination is more active in anonymity , in protracted solitude , in silence and at twilight.
When we are surrounded by non-stop hustle and bustle , at airports or cocktail parties , in the high noon of media attention , then the
imagination takes a permanent holiday and refuses to become active even when summoned. It lies as dormant as an ex-celebrity full of sleeping
pills , whose world of gloomy fame becomes gloomier with every passing hour of night.
Wig.
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