Fame isn't a dirty word

Us­ing celebrity for good rather than evil is im­por­tant, says Dirty Laun­dry Live’s Brooke Satch­well

Sunday Tasmanian - Tassie Living - - FRONT PAGE -

YOU’D be hard- pressed to fi nd some­one not fas­ci­nated by celebrity gos­sip – and that in­cludes celebri­ties them­selves.

Brooke Satch­well can cer­tainly re­late. Hav­ing found fame at 15 on Neigh­bours, she has had a suc­cess­ful and var­ied ca­reer. But com­edy quiz Dirty Laun­dry Live, which looks at the weird and won­der­ful things that have hap­pened in the gos­sip world dur­ing the week, is “the most fun you can have on TV”, she says.

“I’ve al­ways re­ferred to it as the bunch of peo­ple left around the kitchen ta­ble last thing in the morn­ing, shoot­ing the s** t, straight from the hip,” she says.

“We love to pre­tend we don’t care [ about celebrity gos­sip] but it fi lls so much time and space in our con­ver­sa­tions.

“It’s been that thing since we were small vil­lages – it’s the cu­rios­ity about the peo­ple next door.” Along­side Satch­well, Dirty

Laun­dry Live is helmed by Lawrence Mooney. And de­spite mov­ing up from ABC2 in sea­son three to the “main chan­nel”, they don’t plan to change what isn’t bro­ken as they re­turn to screens.

“The only thing that’s diff er­ent is that we’ve got two runs on the board and this is the third time even more lucky,” says Satch­well.

“We’ve got all the team back plus we’ll have some new faces which is ex­cit­ing. But other than that it’s Dirty Laun­dry Live as you know and love it.”

While other celebs may strug­gle with delv­ing into the nitty gritty of the lives of the stars, Satch­well says she doesn’t see her­self as “fa­mous”.

“When­ever peo­ple say to me, ‘ You’re on telly, you’re fa­mous,’ I’m like, ‘ Yeah, leg­end in my own lunch box’,” she laughs. “I’ve never re­ally taken it se­ri­ously.”

What she does take se­ri­ously, how­ever, is the abil­ity her public no­to­ri­ety al­lows her to “do for good rather than evil”.

Satch­well re­cently joined The But­terfl y Foun­da­tion’s cam­paign Don’t DIS My Ap­pear­ance, a na­tional fundraiser aim­ing at fi ght­ing body sham­ing while rais­ing money for eat­ing dis­or­der ser­vices.

It’s a cam­paign she says she feels pas­sion­ate about, es­pe­cially with a young niece who she wants to have a bal­anced per­spec­tive.

“It is, quite frankly, BS to judge a book by its cover,” she says.

“There’s so much more value in hu­man be­ings and if they’re go­ing to get caught up in sur­face judg­ments it’s an in­cred­i­ble con­cern. Not only for the peo­ple who are be­ing judged, but by the peo­ple who are do­ing the judg­ing.”

Down- to- earth and self- dep­re­cat­ing, Satch­well says that it was start­ing her jour­ney in the public eye in a pre- in­ter­net age that has helped her have such solid foun­da­tions.

Re­call­ing be­ing at her lo­cal Red Rooster the fi rst time she was recog­nised in public thanks to Neigh­bours, she promptly “spilt four Cokes over the counter in ter­ror”.

But with no so­cial me­dia to am­plify the scru­tiny, “it was still rel­a­tively con­tained,” says Satch­well.

“I’m aware of it, but I don’t pay at­ten­tion to it,” she says of her re­ac­tion to public recog­ni­tion to­day.

“I can sense heads turn­ing and I know what it is but it doesn’t in­ter­fere with what­ever I’m do­ing.”

And lest you think you’re alone in be­liev­ing you ‘ know’ your favourite celebs, Satch­well con­fesses to hav­ing her own mo­ments when she feels a false sense of in­ti­macy with a public fig­ure.

“I do it with peo­ple in the in­dus­try,” she ad­mits.

“We have this re­ally dorky con­ver­sa­tion where it’s like, ‘ Did we meet at a job? Or at an event? No, I just know you from the telly. OK, nice to meet you!’”



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