If Russell Brand can sell a £188 amulet, maybe I could be the George Clooney of cheap coffee

'There is still a demand for copies of a 2003 Daily Telegraph issue in which I appeared in a pair of striped jim-jams implicitly promoting inflatable mattresses,' writes Christopher Howse
‘There is still a demand for copies of a 2003 Daily Telegraph issue in which I appeared in a pair of striped jim-jams implicitly promoting inflatable mattresses,’ writes Christopher Howse - Claire Lim

There is plenty about modern life to cause celebration and aggravation in equal measure. Thankfully, old hand Christopher Howse and young gun Guy Kelly are here to dissect the way we live now...

Brand promotion has just suffered a galvanic kick from a strange video by Russell Brand. Remember him, that one with the air-fried hair always going round in his saggy vest? His knight’s-move loquacity once beguiled Jeremy Paxman in a Newsnight interview. Now he has sprung a video upon the world extolling an amulet that defends from evil and Wi-Fi and sells at £188. I forget the make.

If Russell, who seldom deviates into sense, can market amulets, why aren’t I monetising my personality? It’s so magnetic that I have to keep my distance from fridges. I could be the George Clooney of cheap coffee. He has spent many a tour of duty charmingly wandering around in pyjamas and enjoying coffee from those expensive capsules.

My preference these days is a nightshirt (no chafing waistband) and heaps of supermarket ground coffee given the boiling water treatment. Viewers wouldn’t have to see the nightwear, though I understand there is still quite a demand for back copies of a Daily Telegraph issue from 2003 in which I appeared in a natty pair of striped jim-jams implicitly promoting inflatable mattresses (pictured above).

I must have been encouraged by the success shortly before of the great journalist Sir Peregrine Worsthorne in showing off clothing for his friend Johnnie Boden. Sir Peregrine favoured odd combinations, such as ‘one of their pairs of blue linen summer trousers with a red velveteen coat’.

I could never aspire to his effortless dandyism. When I joined The Sunday Telegraph in 1990, I looked with suspicion on the turnback cuffs that he had got his tailor to make on the sleeves of his suit.

But nowadays the demotic look is in, and everyone can be a brand ambassador, or at least a member of the crowd chanting the brand name. Perhaps, though, some merchandise manufacturer would pay me to keep quiet. I am, by conviction, a strong opponent of amulets – nasty superstitious things. But I don’t often go on about it, on TikTok or anywhere else. My silence can’t be bought, but I wouldn’t mind it being rewarded.

The trouble with celebrities hawking their wares for a quick buck is that they’re never the wares you’d hope they sold. Russell Brand’s ‘magical’ amulet may protect the wearer from ‘Wi-Fi and all sorts of evil energies’, but it does nothing to ward off the advances of Russell Brand. If it could, it’d sell out faster than, well, Russell Brand.

Trumpstore.com has just about everything you can imagine – hats, speakers, pickleball paddles – but nothing you’d want. Where are the ‘Grow Your Own Full-Size Silicon Donald Trump From A Replica Of The Bit Of Ear That Bloke Shot Off’ kits? I would buy one of those. I don’t know what I’d do with my full-size silicon Donald Trump, but that is by the by.

In fact, there are all sorts of celebrity-endorsed products just begging to be made…

Laura Kuenssburgers, by Laura Kuenssberg

How long has she been broadcasting in the brunchtime slot? And these still aren’t a thing? They would be tough, they would contain mincemeat, because that’s what she makes of hapless Labour MPs, and they would leave you with an aftertaste of regret, for wasting your Sunday morning.

Forks, by Reese Witherspoon

Everyone expects her to make spoons, so what should she do? Keep. Them. Guessing.

Kemi Badenoch’s Bad Enochs, by Kemi Badenoch

A picture book of all the worst Enochs the Tory leadership hopeful can think of, such as Enoch Jeavons, the cricketer who played a single game for Worcestershire in June 1924 and ‘made little impression on what was a disastrous game for his county’, and so-so Georgian-era painter Enoch Seeman. And that’s about it.

Hugs, by Gareth Southgate

I’d pay £1,000 just to be held by our Gaz. We all would. Wait, is this sex work? Legal check please.

Jeremy Vine’s Wines, by Jeremy Vine

As soon as you open it, you wish you never had. And yet, and yet… you just cannot stop. Just like his Radio 2 show.

Jeremy Vine’s Whines, by Jeremy Vine

A Go-Pro-filmed compilation of the noises Jeremy’s made while being cut up by white van men around London. A sample: ‘Come onnnnn! Are you kidding!!!?’