The pasta thing was especially infuriating. Would it have killed her to cook it the night before, dress it in a bit of oil and then brought it from the fridge ready to heat through for the show, freeing her up to deal with the other bits of the dish. There's a certain arrogance about thinking you're so fascinating that a live TV show has time to wait about whilst you're waiting to boil bloody pasta. I haven't managed more than fifteen seconds of the Hellmans debacle. Watching her gives me major anxiety.I think that book should have had a footnote - “I want to be a star...but only if someone else makes me one”. Because if I wanted something really badly, I would do everything I could to get there. But she wouldn’t prepare for the Hellman’s live, she couldn’t even pre-boil the pasta for the lingereenie and had all manner of tech problems for a prime slot on BBC1. The sense of entitlement with her is astounding.
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