Thursday, January 12, 2012

Not Keeping Up with the Carters

Much has been written about Beyoncé and Jay Z's new bundle of joy, Blue Ivy, although bizarrely nothing about the current trend of naming your child something that sounds like a bathroom cleaning product... Blue Ivy, Harper (harpic) 7... etc.  All the articles I've read on the matter seem to have a lot of emphasis on money, which could make the average run-of-the-mill parent like myself feel a little bit of a skint-flint when comparing.


The couple allegedly spent over a million dollars bullet-proofing their maternity ward and hiring a top-notch security team to patrol the hospital. Just in case any piddling member of the public wanted to get a glimpse of the tot before they've sold the pictures for a few million bucks*. Sadly this seems to have meant that some other new fathers have found themselves on the wrong end of a face-palm from a bloke who looks like a brick shit-house, when all they wanted to do was go and tend to their own new-borns and knackered wives.  But still, a million dollars to ensure the safety of their child, and here am I re-using Joseph's old car seat.  Bad mum!


In the few days of Blue's short life (seriously who'd name their kid after a colour *cough*), the child has already amassed a fortune of gifts worth over a million pounds that includes designer outfits, a Swarovski crystal covered highchair and a solid gold rocking horse worth £390,000 from a Japanese jeweller.  Clearly plenty of money does not equal good taste, but hey I'm sure Bouncy Bouncy and Jay Zed can find some nook or cranny in their palatial New York pad to house all this tat. Not to mention have plenty of time shout to each other "Shawn, Shawn! Quick, get that bloody horse out of the box room, Mr Miyagi San's at the front door!"  And let's face it, it won't be Beyoncé scrubbing pureed parsnip and regurgatated weetabix from betwixt those bloody crystals will it?


Her crib, the one she lies in not her house (see, I'm down with the kids), apparently cost her parents, or whichever damn fool who bought it, a staggering $12,000 and was described as fit for Cinderella—which is odd 'cos I always thought Cinderella was a pauper?  Anyway, I can only look in dismay at our teething chewed, Joseph hand-me-down Ikea cot-bed that he'd only just stopped sleeping in months before she was born.  God-damn shameful Mum!


Thank fuck my apartment is the size of a matchbox

Who only can guess what other riches this child will have bestowed upon her before her first birthday, but I'm sure the Daily Fail will take great delight in telling us.  Right after they've chastised Beyoncé for walking in killer heels, but in a separate article praise her super-rapid weight loss.  At the same time my daughter, just a couple of months ahead of Blue, will be dressed in last year's sale clothes and I'll be in my five year old birkos carrying two pregnancies' worth of undesired weight.


Still, two good things can come of this: firstly that no-coat wearing Holmes/Cruise child will get less press attention - please God let it be true - and secondly I'll hopefully be long dead before all these overspoilt little girls become women and get papped even more for being famous for being famous.  






* in my humble, if not a tad cynical, opinion.