Fame… makes a man think things over

As I hurtle towards my 45th birthday, I’ve had a weird week. I wonder if I might be about to hit my mid-life crisis. Let me explain.It began with a visit to my chemist. While queuing to collect a prescription, another member of the queue turned to me and said

“You live in the same street as me. I see you wheeling up and down the road… oh and of course I saw you on TV” That’s nice, I thought, still being recognised.

“Yeah” I said.

“You used to be more handsome back then” was then next comment.

“Nah” I replied “Just younger”. We went back to queuing and smiling at each other. My smile hiding just how much a throw away comment can hurt.

Now fame is weird. Once people feel like they know you, which is one of the side effects of being let in their home via their TV screen, they feel they can say whatever they like to you. Can you imagine going up to someone in the street and informing them that they are looking uglier than they used to be years ago? No, neither can I. Yet it happens all the time. A few months ago while in Boots (I seem to spend too much time in chemists – although this time it was for hair care products, which I obviously spend a fortune on) a woman said hello and then informed me of how fat I had got. OK I know I’ve spread with age, but she was… huge! So surely she must know ow it feels to be called fat by strangers. Yet fame meant this was fine.

When I was at the peak of my celebrity, way back in the 90’s, I had all manner of problems. People would just come up and insult and even attack me or even worse, attack my loved ones. I even had a stalker, who threatened to kidnap and rape me. Nice. The most annoying thing was that all the time I was presenting the TV shows that meant the public felt they owned me, I was being paid well under the going rate. (Too many TV companies had the attitude that disabled talent deserved less pay. In a business where people can get paid £100,000s per show I was lucky if I got £100s per series. I would have earned more if I stacked shelves in any famous Supermarket) So I couldn’t afford the security that I really needed. Hence way I started going to private members clubs and the like. To be safe.

But why, if fame was so bad, did I continue? Why am I still fighting to get back into the media world? Well fame has it’s up side too. No it’s not all models and parties, although there were a few. The best thing about fame is being taken notice of.

For ages now I have been trying to get Camden council to wake up to it’s responsibilities around access for disabled people in the borough. This week the local paper, the Camden New Journal, ran a story about experiences and my blogs on the issue. Since the article, I have been contacted a councillor who wants to start up a committee to examine what an be done to improve Camden and it’s access. Now if I wasn’t “Mik Scarlet – Broadcaster and Journalist” would the local paper written the story and would the council have taken notice?

And that’s my mid-life crisis. I feel I am at a cross roads in my life. The media always focus on new talent, as the current search for presenters to work on the Paralympics demonstrate, and I could never be considered “new”. I have had to take years off from working to recover from my spine surgery back in 2003, and even though I feel I am ready to go back to work, will I be able to get back into an industry that everyone knows is almost impossible to break into? Especially if you already used to be in it! The other factor is do I want to anyway? As I have already said, fame is no picnic, and the rewards are not always that great.

I know I have gained many skills through my time as a musician and broadcaster that would apply to many other professions. I keep asking myself is it time to grow up and stop seeking a way back into the media. Are the rewards of fame worth all the hassles?

So what would you do, dear reader? Do you think there’s a Mik shaped hole in your TV viewing? Do you think I should fight to fill it, or go out and get a real job? I really need your advice.

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