Gordon Frown

The Chancellor, and slot-in Prime Minister-in-waiting, told a national newspaper that Britain has fallen out of love with celebrity. He was pictured in profile, staring off into the distance, a suitable pose for a serious politician. Gordon Brown even has a name that comes without fripperies, a no-nonsense collection of sturdy syllables.

There is a disreputable habit among columnists of rechristening politicians by playing with their name. Hence Mrs Thatcher used to be Mrs Hacksaw in this column once upon an age ago, while Tony Blair is recast as Tony Blah by another columnist in The Press. If he goes on like this, Gordon Brown risks being reassembled as Gordon Frown.

It is interesting that such a prominent politician should predict an end to our national obsession with celebrity, while pointing to evidence of "a new thirst for seriousness" in Britain. Even if it isn't remotely true. In his interview, Gordon said: "I think we're moving from this period when, if you like, celebrity matters, when people have become famous for being famous."

As evidence of the new seriousness, the Chancellor points to the flourishing of book clubs and the rise of literary festivals. And, er, well that's about it.

Gordon may have a point, and I'd half like to think he was right. All this celebrity stuff has me puzzled, especially when I am pretending not to watch Celebrity Big Brother.

And as for all those cheapo magazines full of shouty stories about faux celebrities, well I don't get them at all. A few years ago, I would have said Heat, Hello and the others would never last, which just goes to show how out of touch a person can be.

In fairness to Gordon, the celebrity culture has spawned far too many copycat TV shows in which virtual nonentities with dustbin careers are paraded before our duped eyes as celebrities.

The point has been made so many times that the contestants on I'm A Celebrity and all the tedious rest are not celebrities at all. But the thing is, no one cares. In a sense, that's the point of it all.

Viewers don't mind that these dullards have no talent - they like them because of it. There is a meanness in this, a sly delight in watching people who aren't all that good at whatever it is they are supposed to be doing; yet there is a degree of fellow-feeling too. These so-called celebrities are, in the end, no better than us, or possibly worse.

It's all a big silly game: the mock-celebrity contestants know it, the viewers know - only Gordon doesn't seem to have caught on.

Speaking from the little hill where I sit pretending not to notice any of this, I would quite like it if Gordon was right. No more celebrity nonsense, no more mass over-excitement about nothing much dressed up as something.

The trouble is, Gordon is almost certainly wrong. Of course there are serious people around who like sober and sensible pursuits, but Gordon's new seriousness looks like a dark, dense cloud on the horizon.

So while it is tempting to frown around with Gordon, it doesn't look like much fun. And this has a political dimension, adding to the impression, fair or otherwise, that he is too earnest for his own good.

While Gordon Brown, who is unlikely ever to appear on Celebrity Big Chancellor, worries about celebrity culture, Tony Blair pops up with Catherine Tate in a Red Nose sketch - and does it brilliantly.

As for the literary world, well the best-selling book at present is Coleen whatsit's autobiography. Yup, people want to read about a footballer's girlfriend. Sad, but true.

Also, Richard and Judy, those TV courtiers to celebrity, are now a force in publishing, with the power to make a best-seller. High and low culture got into bed a while a go.

And, finally, what news totally overshadowed Gordon Brown's thoughts on the new seriousness? A posh young prince splitting up with his girlfriend, that's what.