There’s an excruciating scene right at the beginning of the new series of BBC hit Amandaland, where our heroine, the wannabe influencer Amanda, chastises a passer-by for ruining her shot as she films herself pretending to go for a run.
‘As if anyone would actually do that,’ I flushed, watching the scene with my husband and teenage daughter.
Like Amanda’s weary family, they said nothing, instead opting to shove chocolate in their mouths.
Less than 24 hours later, we stood in an aisle at our local Sainsbury’s as I attempted to manufacture a picture of myself ‘stumbling’ across my latest book, People Pleaser, on my weekly grocery shop.
‘No, you need to film me from this angle!’ I harrumphed, after my husband had shown me his pathetic attempt at a photo – slightly blurry, the book cover completely hidden by a shopping basket.
‘And why did you take only one? Do it again, but in portrait mode, and remember, make it look natural.’
‘Why are you so embarrassing?’ winced my daughter from a stand of air fresheners she was hiding behind. ‘Literally nobody cares but you.’
‘This is my job!’ I heard myself say. ‘Why can’t you take it seriously?!’
Amanda, played by Lucy Punch, filming herself in the street as she pretends to go for a run
Amanda chastises a passer-by for ruining her shot in BBC hit series Amandaland
It was in this moment, as my family scurried away from me laughing, that I realised what a cliche I had become. I was a walking, talking, posing version of Amanda – just without the glossy hair or glamorous good looks of Lucy Punch, the actress who plays her.
And I couldn’t even excuse my behaviour on some mega bucks ‘collab’, as Amanda calls her brand deals, because I had gone there of my own volition on a Saturday afternoon, when nobody had asked me to (not Sainsbury’s, and certainly not my publisher).
‘This will make good content!’ I thought, when I realised we had run out of loo paper and the nearest place to buy it was also selling copies of my book (no jokes at the back). As Nora Ephron might have said: everything is content.
I didn’t mean for this to happen. I never set out to be an influencer. As a journalist and author, my career has always necessitated the use of social media, but now it’s become a job in itself, a living, breathing behemoth that must be fed constantly in order for the other stuff to be of any value.
Over the years, I have built up more than 272,000 followers on Instagram – not huge, by any means, but certainly not insignificant. And today, I find that just as many people come up to me on the street to tell me they like my videos as they do my writing.
If I needed any more confirmation that I have become an accidental influencer, then it came on Tuesday when I found myself nodding in agreement with Luisa Zissman, of all people. The former Apprentice star used her podcast to complain about all the unsolicited freebies she gets sent, describing it as ‘s**t that’s cluttering up my house’.
She was immediately accused of being entitled, but I have to say that on this (and perhaps only this), she has a point.
Have we reached peak influencer culture? Judging by the exhausted state of my postman, the answer is yes. The hallway of my small terraced home is currently 25 per cent unopened PR packages, 75 per cent floor.
‘For the love of God and the limited space in our house, will you just open them?’ my husband huffs, when he returns from work and immediately trips over boxes.
‘Have we reached peak influencer culture?,’ asks Bryony Gordon. ‘Judging by the exhausted state of my postman, the answer is yes. The hallway of my small terraced home is currently 25 per cent unopened PR packages, 75 per cent floor’
Every couple of days, new packages arrive, filled with tote bags I don’t need and herbal teabags I will never use. I spend hours of my life queuing at the post office to collect books I haven’t ordered and branded mugs that even the charity shop rejects.
Every time I open these packages, I think of the money that must have been wasted sending them to me (just how did they get my address?), the trees that could have been saved if we didn’t live in a world where style rules over substance and marketing over ethics.
And if I’m tired of receiving these things, imagine how sick the average human must be of watching people like me receive them. When you’re trying to get through a cost-of-living crisis and the only thing you’ve managed to receive for free is a stress headache, do you really want to watch a reality star unbox all 25 shades of the latest viral lipstick on TikTok?
To be fair, most reputable brands will ask before they send something. And there are plenty of brilliant content creators out there doing important things who aren’t in it for the freebies.
I rarely post anything I’ve been ‘gifted’ unless I think it’s genuinely brilliant, and try to repurpose and recycle the rest in a useful way. The rare ads I do are with brands I already use.
But not everyone behaves this way. There are now so many people on social media putting out so much content that to open the Instagram app is to inadvertently wander into some sort of 21st-century version of Only Fools And Horses, where a plethora of digital Del Boys are trying to sell you stuff you don’t need from the back of their online Reliant Regal.
I think I’ve had enough of people like me. It’s time we gave everyone a break, and got off our phones – even if only for the length of the next episode of Amandaland.
Happy Rivals Day! If only we could all live in Rutshire
Emily Atack at the world premiere of series two of Rivals in London on Wednesday
Happy New Season of Rivals Day to all those who celebrate. Jilly Cooper’s masterpiece is back on our screens and reminding us of just how great the 1980s were: the shoulder pads, the sex, the stilettos.
Just be sure not to adjust those rose-tinted spectacles while you’re watching, or you might accidentally remember the strikes, the riots, and the mass unemployment.
Ahh, if only we could all live in make believe Rutshire.
Working-class people are less happy than their middle-class counterparts, even when they move upwards, finds the Sutton Trust.
Perhaps those with working-class roots are more realistic? In my experience, the key to a content life is not being happy all the time, but accepting that sometimes, you’re going to be sad.
Crack that, and you’ll be fine.
Strictly hosts will do better job than PM
It’s a question almost as pressing as the one currently facing the Labour Party as it lines up successors to Keir Starmer: who will replace Tess and Claudia on Strictly?
The hot money is on pro dancer Johannes Radebe next to presenter Emma Willis. I’ve got no inside information on this, but one thing’s for sure: whoever presents Strictly will do a better job than whoever ends up running the country.
Emma Willis has been tipped as a new presenter on Strictly Come Dancing, to replace Claudia Winkleman and Tess Daly
So THAT’S why I love Scotch eggs
Speaking of the 1980s, Waitrose claims the decade’s food is making a comeback, with a 170 per cent rise in demand for prawn cocktail.
Scotch eggs are also experiencing a revival. Meanwhile, scientists have found that babies given vegetables in the womb are more likely to enjoy them as children – which might explain why, as a child of the 1980s, I existed almost entirely on a diet of those Scotch eggs, and still would, if I could.
You don’t need fat jabs for summer
How sad to read that body embarrassment is keeping one in seven Britons off the beach, according to a new poll. What’s even sadder to read is that the poll was carried out by Voy, a provider of weight-loss jabs.
Just a reminder: you don’t have to get on Mounjaro to get into a swimsuit or a bikini this summer. You belong on the beach, whatever your size.
