Lily Allen as Rosie the mitherer. Graphic: Kelly Nestruck
Only those curmudgeonly souls with hearts made of the sternest flint and ice water where the rest of us have blood could not shed a tear of salty empathy over Lily Allen's announcement that she is to cancel a slew of American dates. Poor, poor petal. But, then again, no.
Apparently she is not "falling apart at the seems" (let's momentarily pause here to note that the finest education money could buy neglected to teach her how to spell "seams" correctly, but time is pressing and we must move on). Nor is she pregnant, although it's a tricky call in those frilly dresses. And she is not off to rehab, always a cry for publicity rather than for help.
The truth is that by her own admission, she is "getting really drunk" and she is, wait for it, "tired". Too tired, in fact, to fly home and rest, so she's taking a stateside holiday, or as she puts it "starting to write the new album". More telling is her admission that breaking America is "boring".
By any reasonable yardstick, not just that of a junior doctor after a 40-hour shift, this is simply not good enough. You might think I'm jealous (and you'd be right), but being a pop star is not a proper job.
This is how a typical Lily Allen day would go:
11am: Wake up in five star hotel.
1pm: Visit strategically important local radio station, where DJ will say you're better than Amy Winehouse and play your mockney records.
3pm: Do interview with important magazine, where journalist will talk about how great you are: the new Tori Amos, "but with tunes", probably.
5pm: Do soundcheck
5.01pm: Have a rest
8pm: Drink all wine in world
9pm: Do show. Everyone claps.
10pm: Fans and important record company executives tell you that said show was "better than PJ Harvey".
10.30pm: Go to night club. Carouse like billio.
3.00am: return to five-star hotel. Count money. Sleep softly on a pillow of US dollars.
Occasionally such soul-sapping drear may be leavened with an overnight trip in a coach bigger and more luxurious than most immobile homes. Lily Allen would not, of course, be expected to drive it herself.
Pop stars can be many things, but they're not meant to be wimps. They're meant to tour until they drop. This month pensioner Bob Dylan is playing 22 shows in nine countries. Kurt Cobain only missed concerts when he overdosed, and don't get me started on the Grateful Dead or Phish. Even Guns N'Roses tour with relatively Stakhanovite zeal.
Lily Allen, bless her, might find it "boring" that she has won life's lottery, but the least she could do is a little something to further a career which is, lest we forget, hers. She has only released one album. She's toured a bit and done a few fawning interviews. Hardly Nelson Mandela rebuilding South Africa is it?
If she can't be bothered to promote that first album properly, what on earth will she be like by her tenth album (the roots one)? For now, the answer is simple: stop mithering and get back to work...
