TV:That spittle-fuelled genre where mediocrity masquerades as entertainment, reality TV, last weekend saw the final instalment of the televised death of one of the brighter stars in its murky firmament. Jade Goody, whose premature death from cervical cancer has been the subject of intense scrutiny in the media, made her final public bow as her funeral cortege wove its way through the streets of Bermondsey and Essex. The
sea of floral tributes included the word “eastangular”, one of Jade’s many (some felt endearing) malapropisms.
“You were a star down here, and you will be a star up there,” read the wreath from her publicist, Max Clifford. “Spot on,” said the local florist.
Finally there was a giant Marmite bottle ready to deck out the coffin, made of blackened petals, daffodils and red-and-white rosebuds.
“That was Jade – like Marmite, you either loved her or hated her,” said the florist to the sombrely dressed, and intensely interested, Sky News reporter, who had many more hours of rolling news to kill.
“Absolutely,” said the double-breasted reporter. “Absolutely.”