To The Max

Now that the dust has more or less settled, what was the most notable thing about the whole Sven/Faria/Palios debacle?
For one thing, there was the ridiculous amount of press coverage, across all medias, given to unremarkable consenting relations between adults, but that should no longer surprise us.

There was further confirmation of Sven’s ability to avoid being drawn into the maelstrom by just shrugging his shoulders and keeping his counsel, but again we are getting used to this. (When I think of Sven, I always imagine him being the sort of mate who would get you involved in a pub fight, but who himself would walk away unscathed and uninvolved in the ensuing fracas).

We do not need to be told that the Football Association is just about as inept and badly run an organisation as there is, but even by their standards the degree to which they shot themselves in their collective feet is staggering. And in Colin Gibson they had perhaps the only Press Secretary with a benign view of the tabloid press. Only the fact that he is not the Colin Gibson, who served Manchester United with little distinction in the 80’s prevented his intervention from being the most hilarious part of the whole affair.

But for me, it is the involvement once again of Max Clifford which really takes the biscuit. Not that he was the inevitable publicist for Faria Alam, but that the press once again ran to interview him in his position as an expert. Why is there a need for TV, Radio and Newspapers to massage this man’s ego everytime they want a commentary on how much money an aspiring Z list celebrity can make if they play their cards right. I have yet to see him being interviewed about the future for Nadia from Big Brother 5, but I dare say that is just good fortune on my part.

This has got to stop. One day, please, I would love to be listening to BBC FiveLive or something like that, discussing the latest Pop Idol hopeful or whatever, and for them to announce “and later on in the programme we will not, under any circumstances, be asking Max Clifford for his opinions.”

I fear I am wasting my time; does he, I wonder, insist on his little cameo appearances, threatening producers and journalists with his “black book of dark secrets and skeletons in the closet” unless they indulge him?