It’s 2020 now. We’re in a more enlightened time, generally. Nowadays we’re accepting of most things, unless you’re writing an internet comment on literally anything and then any shred of positivity will be destroyed in an instant.
On Friday, Philip Schofield – TV presenter for goodness knows how long – announced he was gay in a statement on Instagram (because that’s how statements for things are announced these days) and then via an interview with Holly on This Morning.
There was shock across the land. There were also people across the land claiming that it was the worst kept secret in showbusiness. But either way, Philip Schofield had come out as gay. The story was spun in a weird way, as though everyone was literally finding out that morning including his wife and children. They weren’t. They knew. But you’ve got to love the media for stuff.
So, it’s 2020. Someone’s come out as gay, people have offered messages of support. But then other people have remembered it’s the internet and been dicks about it.
But it’s done.
It’s 2020, it’s not a big deal anymore.
It’s Monday today.
Fuck me, judging by EVERYTHING ON THE INTERNET this blog should be titled “The First Monday Blog Since Philip Schofield Announced He Was Gay”.
Everything is now measured against that benchmark, it seems. Philip’s first episode of Dancing On Ice since he announced he was gay. His first episode of This Morning since he announced he was gay. His first poo since he announced he was gay…
Just on and on and on and on…
As though everyone’s expected him to turn up to work and be super over-the-top flamboyant. Or, as the camera pans across to him, for him to be just kissing someone. He’s exactly the same person as he was last week, except now everyone knows he’s gay – not just the people who already knew (according to, variously, the internet and Joan Collins).
But the more we bang on about things since he announced he was gay, the more attention it gives to something which isn’t a big deal anymore. It’s weird. It’s like the visibility thing but then focused entirely on one place. In much the same way as, for a period after the arrival of Sudoku, you couldn’t do a puzzle without Carol Vorderman popping up somewhere it feels like anyone revealing their sexuality is going to be forever in the shadow of Schofe.
We’re in danger of having time measured not just in BCE and CE (or BC and AD if you prefer to tow the Lord’s line) but also in Before Philip Schofield Came Out and After Philip Schofield Came Out. BPSCO and APSCO.
Anyway, what I’m saying is we probably don’t need to talk about it as much as we are. We don’t need to have interview after interview with his wife. We don’t need to talk to his children to find out what we really think and we don’t need to – and you know the red-topped newspapers are – scour the country to find someone who Phil’s had a dalliance with.
We can just get on with shit. He’s gay now. Well, he was gay then. But we know now. We’re in APSCO now. This is our life.
But the main take home from all this is that it has probably absolutely completely and utterly fucked off Amanda Holden.