Jerry Hayes, the former Conservative MP for Harlow and criminal Barrister, returns to The Spectator Arts Blog with his take on Janet Street Porter’s book Don’t Let The B*****ds Get You Down, which has recently been reprinted in paperback.
You really won’t want to put this book down. Because the moment the first page of this execrable excuse for a self-help manual is finished, you will feel compelled to hurl it from the nearest window and pray that it won’t land on consecrated ground. This is not just any old turkey. It is a Janet Street Porter primal scream of a self-boasting, oven-ready, 25-pounder. It is a book that quite simply transcends the bounds of awfulness and takes middle class whinging to Turner prize levels.
So where do we start? The layout gives the impression that it is was produced by a drug induced, hallucinogenic trip in about 1967. It’s not just that the pages are multicoloured, I can live with that. What is mind-blowingly irritating is that most sentences are split into different colours and sizes against a backdrop of internet filched clip art. It makes the layout of the Independent look logical and accessible.
And what is Janet’s message to us all?
‘Life is a journey and we’re experiencing a bumpy patch, but there is no reason why you shouldn’t emerge from it a good deal happier. Just remember: You’re in charge and
there are two ways to get through life: your way and the wrong way. And sod everyone else!’
Well, move over Messrs. Wittgenstein and Nietzsche, and bugger off Jeremy Bentham, JSP is just about to redefine the meaning of life and stuff.
What is so ghastly about this book is its squealing, smug, self-righteous, self-confidence that only the privileged and wealthy seem to possess. On one page she dismisses years of medical research with the enchanting and cerebral heading, ‘Heart attack b*****ks’. And, as for stress, well, it’s ‘a new illness to catch… life’s unfair. And so the extremely disgruntled will claim they have stress.’
But then, having spent pages slagging off experts and research in general, our Jan comes out with this little corker:
‘Research shows pressure is good for you and can slow the ageing process. Taking medication for stress on the other hand, can kill you.’
All from the lady who told a national newspaper last May that ‘depression is the new trendy illness.’ Hm.
It is all as if, at some trendy Islington dinner party, some media greaseball has had his eureka moment. ‘Jan, you can write, you’re a celeb, you call a spade a shovel – cobble together a self-help book. We’ll do the research, provide the pics and all you have to do is have a good old rant.’
And rant she does. Against experts, banks, frugalistas. Anyone and anything gets a piece of her mind: a gift that I’d happily put back in the wrapping paper.
But, don’t forget this is a self help book. So what words of wisdom does she have for us? Well, there’s a whole chapter (I use that word very loosely) slagging off supermarkets and urging us to grow our own veg. Then there’s another saying that growing your own veg is just too expensive. None of this mind-erasing, cortex- numbing nonsense hangs together. You get the feeling the whole project was put together on the back of an envelope.
‘And don’t forget some pithy home truths, Jan,’ the media greaseball would advise. Well, there are enough of these to fill Katie Price’s left breast. Let me give you some toe cringing examples:
‘Staying in is the new going out … There’s no right or wrong way to decorate, just do exactly want you want and sod the taste police …’
The sad thing about this depressing little tome is that it is devoid of wit and irony. It’s meant to be clever, but any attempt at even clunky humour falls as flat as a trainer bra.
I rather admire the way Street Porter, through sheer intelligence, ability and hard work has carved out a very successful career. She is a feisty lady with interesting views. Why on Earth she doesn’t share them in this book is a mystery. Or is it? Her first self-help book, Life’s Too F***ing Short, was a bestseller, and no doubt this one has flown off the shelves. So I suppose this is in the genre of an old boiler pot boiler: purely a money-making exercise. What’s more, it’s not as if it’s creating British jobs. The bloody thing is printed in China.
Perhaps the next entry in the JSP oeuvre will be her personal journey to God. It will probably called That Pope’s a Complete W***er and Buddha’s a Big Fat C**t, So Let’s Say B***cks to Religion. I can’t wait.
Don’t Let The B*****ds Get You Down by Janet Street Porter is published by Quardrille Publishing Ltd.
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