Mopey Cole

The most tragic person in the world is Cheryl Cole. She must be because the British tabloid press have given acres of coverage to the fact that she has been sacked from the American version of X Factor.

This is not the only time that the British media have obssessed over Cole's trials and tribulations.

She blubbed her way through an hour long interview over her failed marriage to Premiership footballer and alleged cockateer Ashley Cole on Piers Morgans Life Stories, a bland-a-thon celebrity jabber show where the eponymous, toffee-faced posho 'interviews' a collection of his celebrity mates in front of an audience of silent and star-struck peasants.

From the way she dabbed her tear filled, mascara'd eyes you'd have thought this was the end of the greatest romance the world had ever known instead of just another showbiz marriage where one of the parties had succumbed to temptation.

I'm not saying that she shouldn't be upset over the marriage failure or when things go wrong with her career but this Queen of Tragedy label is a bit melodramatic.

Her hunger for fame has helped her win a talent competition and she has allowed herself to be moulded into an effective money producing unit by Simon Cowell. This elevation by the media into 'The Nation's Sweetheart' is all part of the money machine.

Being portrayed as a tragic victim that we should feel sorry for is laughable. Her life is not a mess. She has pursued what she wanted and achieved it. She will live comfortably for the rest of her life and need never work again.

Now THIS is tragedy: I was at work recently when a call was received from an elderly lady saying that her neighbour had come into her bedroom through her wardrobe.

She told me her husband had died ten years ago and she had lost touch with her family and had lived alone for years. She had no-one left in her life and was becoming convinced that the man who lived next door was 'up to no good' and was trying to get into her house. It soon became apparent that she was suffering with dementia and was seeing things that were not there.

She asked me to sit down and she would make me a cup of tea. Sadly I could not accept this as we were talking on the phone and had never met. Her dementia was making her believe I was in the room with her.

So here is a question, who do you feel the most sympathy for: a pampered, multi-millionaire musician who has spent the last couple of years as judge over the hopes of deluded karaoke singers: or a sad, lonely old lady sliding inexorably into dementia with no-one left in her life to witness this apart from an over-stretched care system? Just one tiny soul in a sea of other lost souls.

Tune in next week for more laughs.