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I'm A Crap Mag Slag
I know it's dirty, I know it's wrong, but I'm on 12 a week now and just having a cheeky flick makes me feel alive like never before...
Z-list lust
The other day I was on a train reading a cheap magazine with Jordan’s Botoxed arsed face on the cover, when I realised the woman next to me was reading another cheap mag with Jordan’s Botoxed arse face on the cover. There we were, two women in our thirties – well dressed, educated, intelligent (sort of) – using our brilliant minds to read stories about that bird off the One Show and Frank Lampard getting into a taxi.
When we finished, we both turned to each other. For a moment there was a flicker between us – a silent mutual recognition of our depravity – and then she said: ‘Do you want to swap?’
God, it was filthy – the literary equivalent of dogging. Of course, she muttered some embarrassed disclaimer like: ‘Oh, I just read them to relax’, and I said something like: ‘Yeah, I don’t know why I read them. I hate myself’. But we both knew we were dirty, inky-fingered mag slags. Naturally, I felt guilty and soiled for a nanosecond, but then I started reading Vanessa Feltz’ gastric band diary and I forgot everything, including where I live and my own name.
I know it’s bad, but I don’t care. I’m on 12 a week. Now, Closer, Reveal, Grazia, New!, OK! Hello! Heat, Look, Bella, Take A Break, Best…If they’re glossy, salacious, and filled with orange-encrusted D-list muppets, I have to read them. If someone from Loose Women is on the cover and there’s a recipe for Gino Di Campo’s peach cobbler in it, I’m there. And if there’s a long lens pic of Kerry Katona smacking Mark Croft in the face with a Halls Mentholyptus McFlurry, EVEN BETTER.
Why do I love them? Here are 5 great reasons to embrace the trashy weekly magazine.
1. Real life stories. Want to meet grotesque pie-eating alkie drug addicts that would make Jeremy Kyle skewer himself in the guts with a rolled up copy of the Daily Express? Look no further! The headlines are worth the cover price alone- gems such as ‘I KILLED MY HUSBAND WITH MY BOOBS’, ‘I FART ON MEN’S FACES FOR MONEY’ and ‘MY DAD HAD SEX WITH MY MUM AND THEN SHE GAVE BIRTH TO ME.’
2. The shit fashion. Trashy magazines scrape the fashion bargain bucket with terrifying enthusiasm. Ugly bugly Primark heels that will send you crashing into a pile of vomit outside Wetherspoons? Tick! Hideous body con dresses that reek of low self-esteem and Rohypnol? Tick! Trash mags have the same attitude to fashion as teenage girls have to make-up – ie: there’s loads of it, it costs £2.99, and it makes you look like a total slut.
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3. The celebrity columnists. Despite leaving school with nothing but an ASBO and a sexual disease, today’s celebrities are often called upon to deliver pithy insight about the nature of celebrity via weekly magazine columns. So we get such intellectual luminaries as Danielle Lloyd and Kelly Osbourne talking about their favourite moisturizer and how they went to a party and met Duncan from Blue. The best one of course, is Peter Andre, the Poundland Christopher Hitchens, whose controversial views about the ailing Greek economy appear every week in New! Magazine.
4. The comforting repetition. Every trashy magazine relies upon the same photo agencies to give them the same scintillating pictures of Britney Spears drinking a Caramel Frappucino with her matted hair extensions falling out onto the pavement. The only difference is the demographic they’re catering for. So – for 15-25 year olds there’s Cheryl Cole rocking sexy distressed boyfriend jeans at customs, 25-35: Cheryl Cole wearing fierce career girl distressed boyfriend jeans to show Simon Cowell who’s boss, 40 plus: Ooh, look at Cheryl, those distressed boyfriend jeans are hanging off her, put a jumper on, love – etc.
5. Celebrity fridges. You have probably NEVER wondered what’s in Samantha Janus’ fridge, but that won’t stop crap magazines from showing you! For the uninitiated, many trash mags like to recount every miniscule morsel that passes celebrity lips, and the celebs happily reciprocate by opening their fridges to the public and lying about what they eat. I like to imagine coked up Hollyoaks mingers rushing to Waitrose to stock up on oily fish and 25 bags of salad – only to replace them with Magnums and laxatives when the photographer leaves.
Still not convinced? Well I couldn’t give a fuck. I’m addicted, I smell of glossy paper, I’m a hopeless case. My head is filled with trivia about minor Holby City actors and my coffin probably will be lined with old Jonathan Cainer horoscopes from Reveal. I need more – more fat women from Barnsley, more micro-celebrities holding coffee cups, more misguided sex advice…So if anyone else out there shares my endless love for crap magazines, get in touch. Perhaps we could do a swap?
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COMMENTS
The same thing applies Stateside! Every copy of US Weekly includes a page of "Stars: They're Just Like Us" and shows some guy from the Jersey Shore buying toilet paper or chewing his food. Because, you know, we couldn't guess that they actually go to the toilet or have to masticate for themselves.
Ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaa. Genius. The new Charlie Brooker...but funnier.
Where do I get one of those Halls Mentholyptus McFlurrys? I've got a cold. Christopher Hitchens? Who the fuck is he............Excellent. Luvin it and keep it up or else.
I'll never be able to look at Christopher Hitchens in the same way again. Can't wait for his first single. Great stuff!
I m a recovering addict , clean for 18 months now . Have relapsed a couple of times at doctors,dentists. The thing is you have to want to give up .
I could have been that thirty something woman sat beside you. In fact, maybe I was... Excellent
Lucy Sweet. I read one of your previous features and immediately became a fan of your words. Genius.This piece is no exception. However, just one point - the fashion and beauty in Reveal is not shite. Have a look.
Funny very good writing. Thanks.
For many years, I also thought the word 'minuscule' was something to do with minis.
Yes, funny, but those people have won, haven't they? And every mention of them, however slighting, cements their victory. Ignore them and you don't allow your life to be defined by them. Imagine a world where the C Brookers and Marina Hydes had a proper subject for their wit
Hilarious! "I'm an idiot uncontrollably funding the proliferation of celebrity slurry! hahaha! But it's ok because I'm completely aware of what a load of old pony it all is." You can hide behind your snarky, ironic tone all you like, but face it, you're just pretty shallow is all. Can't wait to get that next fix of cognitive dissonance as you simultaneously feel itchy, little twinges of jealousy at their schleb lifestyles followed by soothing, warm rushes of superiority over their idiocy and the sad, desperate 'real' lives detailed in the 'true life stories' emotional pornography section. Then it's off to shore up on disposable, trendy knock-off, sweat shop fashion from down the High St. What larks! What's that? I'm a miserable cnut who should lighten up a bit? Well, to paraphrase your good self; I couldn't give a fuck. Because, ultimately, I'm right, aren't I?
I crave these magazines, I have to limit myself to only 1 per week - living in a non english speaking country they charge a small fortune for even a copy of OK (approx £9 each) Its trash pure and simple and I use it to relax
Lucy, why do you remain so convinced that you're intelligent? You can only play at being low-brow and shallow for so long before it stops being play.
Blimey. I take it this has this just been emailed round the Take a Break office?
Hilarious! you just put into words what we all think. I love reading who is in "AGONY" on every cover.It passes the time in the checkout queue.
god! dondi's got his soap box out! i thought you summed it up wonderfully. relaxation comes in many forms. mine's a read of a cheap celeb mag. could be worse, could be crack. bloody lighten up misery guts. keep writing lucy, i would but im too busy reading about britney's fake love bites. xx
I'm the shift worker whose diary extracts have been published on sabotage.I sell these mags all day every day.Do you want to come down to the unit and maybe interview these purveyors of quality mags?
Condescending clap trap ... The five reasons given speak volumes like like Chav bashing this kind of article is shooting fish in a barrel not biting satire or witty cultural commentary ... Opportunity missed
This piece was funny. Like the bar in Brixton or the old music journalism line, the rest is noise.
I'm not sure that Leyton understands Sabotage Times ... or Jedd for that matter ...
I've sent this to so many people and everyone says something along the lines of, 'OMG, SO TRUE'. Which it is. God bless Crap Mag Slags. I had a similar train-crap mag incident last night, there's a blog post about it here: http://bit.ly/hXIXJH
I know from experience where you're coming from. I worked on one of the mentioned magazines for 8years and after a hard days work (for hardwork see liquid lunches), I'd go home and scrub myself with wire wool and bleach. But still I would reek of eau de exploitation of fools. Feeling like a lowly peddler on a North London canal tow path, I dropped everything n reclaimed my soul by jumping on a plane to volunteer in South America. True Story.
It's only a matter of time before your celebrity garnered from being 'that funny, bitter girl off Sabotage Times, you know, the one that James Corden is getting an injunction against?' turns you into one of the toilet paper eating cardboard monsters you're currently reading about in 'Hello Grazia, Take a Closer break Bella' magazine.... I hate you already.
Good god, don't think I've laughed that much for ages! Those mags are soul destroying!
Always grab the old woman's Heat when I'm heading for a shit. It's tradition. Can't wipe my arse until I've found out how much Peter Andre loves his kids.
This writer is really funny. I tried to rate her molto stars but the machine posted it after just one star. Sorry!
F ing excellently written x well jealous x x x
Excellent piece, Lucy. I look at people reading Crap Mags on trains and buses and wonder if they are insane. 12 Crap Mags a week, that's worse than a daily snowball of crack and heroin.
great piece laughed a lot, reminds me of my mum
Brilliant article! So funny! Got my craving down to two a week now. *shines halo*
Brilliant: Im cured now - Im just on Grazia - the methodone of sleb mags.
Remember when you were a kid and the feeling you used to get when your favourite comic's 'summer special' appeared on the newstands? Well TaB have recreated that feeling for adults by producing a Christmas 'bumper' edition of their loveable toe-rag. Choc-full of stories about women who got themselves pregnant from a bloke who worked on the dodgems or stories about women who got themselves pregnant off a bloke who worked on the hook-a-duck stall it's over 100pages of tragedy, so-called 'puzzles' and Viz style Top Tips that for the duratino of your bus journey home make you feel like you're the classiest man on the planet. My name is Tony, I'm 41 and I read my wife's mags.
Did you get your tattoo yet Tony?
SABOTAGE
