There was a time, not very long ago, when we were picky about those we chose to sprinkle with stardust. Fame was the reward of the talented, or the curse of the notorious; it was earned, aspirational and, for most of us, out of reach. Today of course, that is no longer true. It has never been so easy to get famous; our magazines, televisions and newspapers are peppered with 'celebrities' with no discernable talent, but who are often more familiar to us than the people who live in our own streets. Reality TV and the tabloid press create these new 'stars' by the dozen. Churning them out for us to adopt, dissect and, ultimately, discard at ever-increasing speed. By and large the newly famous understand the deal: wring whatever benefits you can from your fifteen minutes in the sun, and know when your time is up. There is nothing as unbecoming as the party guest who outstays their welcome, kicking and pleading as they are dragged to the door.

Which brings me neatly to Jodie Marsh. Marsh epitomises modern celebrity: launched on the back of a reality TV show, devoid of anything remotely approaching talent and with a pathological need for attention. She saw a chink in fame's armour and thrust herself through it with as much vigour as possible. Since then she has clung on by her fingernails, refusing to listen to the increasingly loud calls for her to go away.

So far, so 'so what?' and, of course, Marsh is far from the first girl to spin a career out of, essentially, getting her bits out for the tabloids. It's a well-trodden route for girls looking for fame whose only skill is looking good in a bikini. For most of them, they'll have a few years of fun and a moderately decent income before marriage, porn or rehab beckons; for a very very small number a 'proper' media career might develop and, if they manage to stick around long enough, maybe even public affection and a veneer of respectability. By and large, I don't have a problem with this. It's not a path that I would want any daughter of mine to follow, it doesn't look terribly fulfilling, but if it makes people happy - good luck to them.

What sets Marsh apart from the other wannabe celebs and glamour girls is her insistence that she is somehow better than them; that she is more than just a set of breasts; that she is, in fact, a sort of weird hybrid of Mother Theresa and Albert Einstein and a set of breasts. She believes herself to be dripping with compassion and intelligence and she won't rest until we all acknowledge this fundamental truth. Of course, the problem with stepping out wearing little more than three band-aids is that the press tends not to focus on your charitable works and searing intellect, they tend to focus on your tits. For some reason this infuriates Jodie; convinced that the world would fall in love if they could only see the 'real her', she rages at her media portrayal, thrusting herself again and again into its gaze despite the increasingly painful results. Much of the problem for Jodie is not that the press have got her all wrong, rather it's that every time she is given another platform to spout from, she inevitably demonstrates that she is exactly who we all imagine her to be.

Finally, after battering her head against the doors of fame long enough to make it bleed, whilst still failing to change public perception, she started her own blog. It is her blog, above all else, that has made her an object of such fascination for many. Marsh is a prolific writer, thousands of words a day, no detail of her daily life considered too trivial to include. And it is here, by her own mouth, unedited and unspun by the evil press, that she convicts herself with almost every entry. Jodie's blog is a testament to the delusion and self-obsession that fuels the bottom of the celebrity food-chain. Reading it is to stare into the dark heart of empty fame; it is disturbing and blackly comic and, naturally, utterly compulsive.

The blogs themselves come in two flavours: 'gushing' and 'ranting', but there are elements that are common to all of them. Firstly, the concept of 'modesty' is clearly alien to Jodie. Whatever else she is writing about, she never misses a chance to brag. It's hard to imagine why anyone would think that constant boasting was attractive, but Jodie heaps the kind of praise upon herself that most of us would find embarrassingly cloying if it was coming from someone else. Let's have a look at just a few examples. [Please note - all the blog quotes on this site are pasted just as they appear on Jodie's site. I have not corrected spelling, punctuation and grammatical errors.]

"For someone that has been called "human viagra" and who's nickname is "the pornstar" - I think I know what I'm doing. I've brought tears to a man's eyes before now through sheer bedroom pleasure alone!"

"Not sure if he knows anything about me but there's a very good reason I've got the word "heart-breaker" tattooed on my leg. He's 22 years old and I'm this country's biggest man-eater! I almost wanna make him fall in love with me now just to trample his heart into the ground and make him beg on his knees on my drive way to marry him in floods of tears when I end it."

"I've got 11 GCSE's all at A*, A and B grades, three A Level's, was in the army cadets for 4 years and became a Marksman, went to private school where I was top of the class in everything and actually was very well brought up.."

"It's his loss not mine I've come to realise. Where else is he gonna meet a fit girl with her own money, a sense of humour to die for, the brain of a scientist, the kindness of a saint and who can shag like a porn star?!"

"I should make a mould of my vagina, turn it into a sex-toy for men and then sell it. He reckons I'd make millions! As the Sunday Sport rightly pointed out though; there's a very good reason I've never been dumped (it's because down below is so tight you can't even get a......... enough!!!!!). ... Men everywhere will finally know what they're missing!!!!!!!"

And finally (and I surely cannot be the only person to hear this in David Brent's voice) Jodie's reaction to being booed at a nightclub PA. "Besides; what could a bunch of brainless kids from Rochester hate me for anyway? They don't even know me! Lets see....... "Oh I really hate her! She does all that stuff for animal rights!" or "God she's vile for giving all that money to Refuge!" or "Jeez, will you just shut up about bullying - let the kids hang themselves - don't try and stop them you slag!" I mean, come on now..... what is there to hate?"

What is there to hate? How about the breathtaking hypocrisy and an ego the size of Jupiter?