Why God made eccentric celebrities for people like us

I ’m a firm believer in the tenet ‘We’re all on the planet for a reason’.

Ryan Gosling is on the planet to make us want to do another hundred ab crunches. Miranda Kerr is on the planet to make us realise that we could do a thousand ab crunches and would never look like her. Gwyneth Paltrow is on the planet to let us know it’s never a good idea to say “I have the butt of a twenty-year-old stripper” when you have a young daughter. Chances are she’ll hate you for it when she grows up.

I’m convinced celebrity parents have been put on the planet to make the rest of us feel much better about ourselves and our parenting skills. Now I’m not talking about our desi clan of celeb mums and dads, because let’s be honest, they’re all kind of boring and goodie-two-shoed with their perfectly straight hair and television commercials for ready to fry chips, hair oil and fruit juices. No, I’m talking about those gloriously spray tanned, hair extensioned, nail art talon wielding parents who we love to hate. The ones who name their children North West and Princess Tiaamii and buy their eight-year-olds pet pythons for their birthdays.

That’s right! A pet python. Remember Peter Andre? The one with the six pack abs that were mean to distract you from the fact that he couldn’t sing? Well the guy has done a lot of things since ‘Mysterious Girl’  to keep distracting us from his lack of vocal chops: reality shows, a Disney-inspired wedding to a pin up model, a highly publicised divorce, low cut cleavage revealing shirts that I’m pretty sure he filched from his wife’s wardrobe and hair styles that single-handedly support the male hair product industry.

But I digress. Back to the python. “Junior wanted a snake for his birthday, and I’ve now given him one. It’s a royal python, which is safe to own as a pet. Our place is going to be like a zoo, because Princess wants a hedgehog for her birthday, and I’m also getting Harvey some tree frogs because they’re his favourite animal!” Andre was quoted.

Err.. safe for whom exactly? Not for the hedgehog and tree frogs I’m guessing. Though I have to say I’m sad I won’t get the chance to read the headline “Former one hit wonder eaten by son’s pet”.

It’s amazing what the rich and not so famous will do for their kids…if you remember MTV from the noughties you’ll remember those two stellar shows: Cribs and My Sweet Sixteen. The former was about the houses of skate boarding super stars and rappers who had televisions wall mounted on the ceiling and the latter was about their children’s sweet sixteen birthday bashes.

Over the top stretch limos, birthday outfits from Cavalli, pimped out Camaros as birthday presents and ‘surprise’ renditions of Happy Birthday by R&B stars. 

Closer home things might not be so OTT… yet, but they’re getting there.

Themed mega events (Rowdy Rathore or Spa Princess… take your pick) managed by emcees with DJs are now de rigeur.  I have a friend who jokes that half his annual bonus gets spent on his kid’s birthday party and that birthday parties should now be called birthday weddings.

Do you remember the time when birthdays were simple affairs? When it meant the one glorious day in the school year when you could wear ‘colour’ dress? When your mother would take you to the corner shop the day before and you would weigh the pros and cons of Lacto King vs Eclairs? Birthday parties meant cake, Cola, chips, chole and puri and one other ‘special’ item. Birthday presents were books and return gifts were a small pack of crayons.

I wonder what Peter Andre is going to get his son next year. How do you top a python? May I suggest a boa constrictor? Purely selfish reasons of course… I’d love to read “Former one hit wonder eaten by son’s pet” in the paper.    

Menaka Raman, a former advertising professional is currently a freelance writer, occasional blogger and also moonlights as a mother. She tries to write when she’s not chasing dragons and riding magic carpets with her two young boys.