High price of narcissism
ONLY a lazy reviewer would watch a show like THE WORLD’S MOST EXPENSIVE PRESENTS (C4) and quote that old sage about fools and their money. It’s more complicated than that or, at least, it had better be otherwise 90 per cent of the world’s wealth might really be in the hands of the daftest two per cent.
The people who specialise in selling things to them are certainly not daft themselves and if you listened to them last night, you’d have realised it wasn’t just about flogging glitter to the gullible.
Self-obsession seemed to be a big part of the super-wealthy make-up, and the gifts had to be tailored to fit. In Mayfair, we met a chap on his way to buy a leather-bound, hand-drawn colouring book for his wife. This would feature scenes from her own life, that she could colour in – if that isn’t narcissistic then I don’t know what is.
Actually, I do, her husband was even more narcissistic with his unique take on gift-giving. “The pleasure is not seeing the look on their faces. It’s the pleasure you get on giving it. I really believe that.”
Later, observing a man who made a living out of coating ordinary objects in gold then flogging them to the rich, I sensed a theme here. What’s the thing about gold? It’s reflective and you can see your face in it.
There are more expensive metals in the world but gold reflects your glory right back at you. A lady called Debbie had taken this wisdom and turned it into a career, making what she called “platforms” for gift-giving.
It wasn’t enough just to give a rich person a big diamond or a fine watch, it had to have a fanfare entrance, reflecting the person and their lifestyle. This might be a luxury Champagne-dispensing cake.
Sometimes it might be a pair of jewel-encrusted shoes. There was creativity here but I wondered why none of these gift-makers was yet to go all the way.
It all seemed to be about, as one contributor put it, finding the thing for rich people that they’d absolutely never been given, by anyone, ever before. In which case, why not give them a free school meals voucher, a bus ticket or, most daring of all, nothing?
Watching DAVID JASON’S SECRET SERVICE (More4),I realised “spy” is one role the veteran actor has never played. It’s a shame, he’d be good as a more smiley version of le Carré’s Smiley but he’s no slouch here, digging in the archives, paying overdue tribute to those who spooked in the days when spooking was a calling, not a career.
At the “school” where wartime recruits to the Special Operations Executive were trained, he learned the skills boyhood dreams were made of.
How to pick a lock, how to get the gun off an armed assailant. It wasn’t just Boys’ Own stuff, former SOE veteran Noreen Riols recounted the special role she’d been given, aged 18.
As part of a sham passing-out celebration, recruits were taken out to a slap-up dinner, during which the boss would excuse himself and Noreen would sidle on, playing a sultry vamp. If any young male agents told her a word of what they’d been doing, they were out.
“You were the original femme fatale!” enthused David, receiving the sort of response you only get from 91-year-old lady war heroes. “Not the original – it’s been going for centuries.”