We don't particularly like having to state the blindingly obvious. But, for some people, Emma Watson being a case in point, it is evidently a medical necessity. In an interview with Vogue magazine, Emma has told of how she only had a "money conversation" with her father when she was in her late teens, by which time she'd already made around fifteen gazillion pounds, but was still on a pitifully small allowance of £50 a week. Diddums.
"By the third or fourth film, the money was starting to get... serious," she told Vogue. "I had no idea. I felt sick, very emotional. It was a real shock." All very curious adjectives to use on being told that you've got so much money you could retire at 17 and play golf everyday for the rest of your life. Though if golf were mentioned, we'd probably be already reaching for the noose. But maybe we're being a tad severe. After all, it must have been difficult seeing your gaunt student friends, with their lacerated tongues inside a two-week old baked bean tin (Tesco value, of course), desperately coaxing out that last morsel of nourishment, while you consider whether to have the venison or the pheasant. We prefer venison.
She's obviously making attempts to appear more of an ordinary person by dressing down, going to gigs and drinking from a paper cup. But the act don't fool us, Em. We know you're of a higher breed. You are Shergar and Red Rum, whilst we'll always be consigned to being Halmahera. A great horse, no question, but never quite made the legendary status of his more successful predecessors. So drop the facade. No-one will judge you for it. Just look at your face on the red carpet, surrounded by the paps, compared with that of the picture above. The former says "I'm loving every second of this", whilst the latter says "If I have to shit in a portaloo once more I'm going to crack". Don't fight it. Embrace your sovereign right to superiority.