Katherine Hannaford writes...
I'll tell you what cheesed me off yesterday. No, not the incessant rain, the fact I couldn't find my umbrella, or the that the only milk in my fridge was off - no, it was that the Spice Girls' tickets for their reunion tour went on sale, and at £55 (US$110) and £75 (US$150) for the two different priced tickets, there was no chance I could afford them. You'd sooner get me into a skintight union jack dress than pay £55 for a piece of nostalgia.
This infuriated me - how on earth is charging a minimum price of £55 per ticket endorsing their 'Girl Power' ethos? Shouldn't ye olde Spicy (and probably crusty) ones be supporting all members of the sisterhood? I know few people under 25 who can cough up that much for one night of reminiscing, and we're the target age for buying the tickets.
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Bit of a contentious topic I know, but I actually really admire Jordan, or 'Katie Price', as she's no doubt known down at the local PTA meetings. Sure, she may be a honeydew-melon titted chav who's been sprayed with Velveeta cheese and sashayed nekkid through the Eastern end of Oxford Street, accumulating gold chains and fake Juicy Couture velour tracksuits faster than you can say 'go forth to the West side, towards Zara and Topshop', but there's just something about her.
Could it be that she's actually a sagacious businesswoman, possibly with even more smarts and wits about her than you and me? After all, she's minted, with royalties coming out of her ears, allowing for her to live a fruitful life up in her mansion with the similarly Tango'd Peter André and kids.
Having ranked number two in Channel 4's list of '100 Worst Britons We Love To Hate', does no-one ever wonder just how she became such a household name, stacked on the pantry shelves right next to Kleenex, Heinz and Dairylea?
Why, she sold out, that's how, and that is exactly the reason why I laud her with so much respect.
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