Why it's time to cancel celebrity 'experts'

People in the public eye don't half come out with some rubbish. The obvious culprits would have to be our own 'much-loved' politicians. But aside from the bickering schoolchildren down at Westminster (the less said about them the better), contestants on reality shows aren't renowned for their grasp of well, reality. Take BBC's The Apprentice for instance. This series in particular saw a number of the entrepreneurs, battling to score Lord Sugar's investment and fuelling the slapstick with their hyperbole. First up, there was winner Carina, humorously dubbed the 'baker who couldn't bake'. Then, there was marketing man Lewis whose vision of a travel venture in Croatia was somewhat dampened by his inability to pinpoint the country on a globe. That being said, nobody could deny that the prize for the most controversial contestant went to Miss Lottie Lion, otherwise known as 'the new Katie Hopkins'. During her stint on the show, the 19-year-old librarian riled viewers with her numerous, eyebrow raising statements, including assertions that she was a 'wine connoisseur' and that she had 'fifteen years in the music industry' secured under her belt. In the interviews, Lottie finally proved that empty carts rattle the loudest, when it was revealed that her business plan did not bear a single figure. Hmm, bit of a schoolgirl error there Lottie, if you don't mind me saying.

Moving on from reality stars, there isn't a day that goes by when we aren't preached at by A-Listers turned climate change activists. Now, I don't dispute that their endeavours to save the planet are laudable, if at times a tad hypocritical (didn't Benedict Cumberbatch star in an advert for gas guzzling cars?). I am, truth be told, a committed environmentalist. Nonetheless, I firmly put down my foot at their suggestion of a Christmas, filled with PC pantos, tasteless tofu and not a present in sight! The world is woke enough without jetset celebs, trampling over the festivities like the eco-friendly Grinch.

 Of course, we can sit and scoff at the braggadocio of reality TV contestants or the double standards of Hollywood's sustainable warriors. But the point is, influential people are making claims about topics which they have limited knowledge or experience of. And while the examples outlined above are quite clearly harmless to us as fans, there are celebs out there who could be directly putting followers' mental and physical health at risk with their dodgy endorsements.

Thanks to social media, we are living through the phenomenon of the 'self-proclaimed expert', a time when anyone and everyone can share their wisdom with the world. Some might say a more enlightened society can only be a good thing; after all, as stated by Margaret Atwood, 'knowledge is power'. However, when the bearers of knowledge have little or no credentials and not an ounce of evidence to prop them up, it raises the question: are we being empowered or merely blinded to our own reality?

I don't mean to be cynical about social media influencers. But, the clue is in the title; their job is to influence us. And although some may use that platform to promote positivity, for many it is driven by the allure of a lucrative income.

Sponsorships have proven a valuable tool to bring in the big bucks for both global and independent brands. The principle makes sense: gather a bunch of popular people, get them to photograph or review your products, and then give them a reward in return. During which brands sit back and wait for the cash to flow in, we as consumers gain a coveted glimpse into our favourite celebs' wardrobes, make-up bags and kitchen cupboards. So it's a win win situation, right? Well, not quite. If influencers are being tied into thousand pound contracts, showered with bougie gifts or whisked away to sun-drenched locations, then chances are their reviews will be biased and to some extent scripted by the brand. Consequently, we are being influenced and coerced into buying things we wouldn't usually buy, just because the celebs we idealise claim to love them so much.

In a bid to clamp down on misleading sponsored posts, the Advertising Standards Association (ASA) partnered with The Competition and Markets Authority (CMA) to launch a guide for influencers. Published over a year ago, the online resource provides guidelines about what constitutes an advert and about how influencers should elucidate this to their followers. Failure to disclose such commercial partnerships can result in at best a metaphorical slap on the wrist, and at worst a hefty fine or up to two year's imprisonment. Since these rules came into effect, the ASA have issued multiple warnings to brand ambassadors such as love Island's Olivia Buckland and Made In Chelsea's Louise Thompson. Even if influencers may feel pressured to be more transparent about their sponsorships, I still don't believe it is enough to deter them from making dubious affirmations.

Just look at the myriads of high profile beauty gurus. Back in January, Kendal Jenner came under fire after telling fans on Instagram that her 'clear' skin was thanks to Proactiv's line of skincare products. Conversely, in a resurfaced New York Times interview from 2015, Kylie revealed that her supermodel sister's acne was 'cured' by a Beverly Hills' dermatologist (no doubt on a footballer's salary). I have a real problem with celebrities being disingenuous about what cosmetics they use, or avouching that products will 'cure' and 'solve' our every skincare woe. Acne is something that a lot of teenagers suffer with and feel insecure about. Therefore, it seems incredibly irresponsible that brands can play on these insecurities and dupe vulnerable consumers by dazzling them with celebrity endorsements. On television adverts and shop shelves, a serum, plastered in miracle claims, would never get authorised. So why are companies recruiting social media influencers as mouthpieces, when they have never even used the product, let alone know what it does.

Mirroring the cosmetics industry, the online 'health' scene is awash with pseudoscientific osmosis. On one end of the spectrum, there are the 'wellness' gurus like Madeline Shaw who seem pretty harmless with their virtuous posts about skin-glowing powders, gut health supplements and the power of plant-based, (as if butter wouldn't melt- or should I say coconut oil). Dig a little deeper however, and you will find in most cases that there is no concrete to their claims: just pure, hot air. Drawing on a study by a team at the University of Glasgow, 90% of these influencers are dishing out false nutritional advice. And they're not the only myths to consider. Working in tandem with the wellness squad, you have the militant dieters who will stop at nothing to peddle you a cacophony of quick fixes and extreme weight loss plans, all of which are 'guaranteed' to transform your body and transform your life. Whether it be diet teas, juice cleanses or medieval looking waist trainers, you've no doubt stumbled across celebrities, raving about these fads on their social media feeds. The thing is though, the vast majority of quick fixes have no effect whatsoever on your weight and could instead be detrimental to your health. Plus, while an influencer might credit a particular diet pill or potion, there is no way of verifying whether this is the true reason for their purported weight loss. Only last week, Lauren Goodger was plunged into hot water after footage emerged of her agreeing to endorse a poisonous diet drink. As part of an undercover documentary for BBC3, Goodger and several other stars were secretly filmed being asked to promote a fake weight loss beverage called Cyanora. They were informed that the fluid contained hydrogen cyanide- a deadly chemical used by the Nazis in concentration camps and on death row. Not even batting an eye lid at the ingredient list, the Towie star also let slip that she had never tried Skinny Coffee, a product which she had previously accredited for her two stone weight loss in multiple sponsored posts. The objective of the BBC sting was to find out whether influencers genuinely consume the products they promote and, judging by the results, it would seem often this is not the case. Goodger has since taken to Instagram, explaining that her alarming alacrity was simply because she had never heard of cyanide. Despite this feeble excuse, it still doesn't justify the fact that she could have put fans in danger if she had made such a recommendation.

It's also important to point out that not all the self-professed gurus are doing their rounds on the internet. Some are even trying to inject their 'expertise' into legislation. A few months ago, it was announced that Great British Bake Off judge Prue Leith had swapped the tent for parliament, becoming the latest 'star advisor' to a government review of hospital food standards. Although she may be the two Michelin starred chef with unrivalled, knowledge of pastry and soufflés, I don't believe the same can be said for her medical credentials. After news of Leith's appointment broke, many were left baffled by the government's naive selection. For one thing, feeding sick patients is a little more complex than cooking a slap-up meal. Their nutritional requirements are going to be vastly different to the general population, due to illness or the treatment they are undergoing. Therefore, surely it would make sense if we enlisted, I don't know, actual experts and actual dieticians with actual experience of working in hospitals. I mean, that would be the logical thing to do; but then, if their previous decisions are anything to go by, what do our government know about logic?

The Bake Off queen hit the headlines again recently, this time with her nanny-state solutions for the 'child obesity crisis'. During a heated debate on GMB, she suggested that all schools should 'ban packed lunches' on account of the fact that 'mums filled them with junk'. And, based on social media reactions, I don't think I was the only one, shouting at the TV. Firstly Prue, we shouldn't be demonising food and labelling it as junk because that, my friend, is sending a pretty pernicious message to young kids. We should be encouraging children to eat everything and I would have thought a foodie like yourself would be on the same wavelength. Secondly, it's not fair to make parents feel inadequate. They know better than anyone what's best for their children, and I think most would agree that there is enough parent shaming on the playground without celebrities jumping on the bandwagon. My outrage was only heightened by her next piece of ridiculous advice that we should be restricting ourselves to ONE treat such as a measly biscuit, per week! What planet do you live on Prue? You're telling us that we should only have a solitary cake a week, and yet you taste test and judge these baked goods for a living? If that's not an oxymoron, I don't know what is.

All in all, there is a stench of hypocrisy surrounding many celebrities' actions. It's times like this when the press is more important than ever, for busting myths and bringing the truth to the light. When I am a journalist, I hope to do the same, as I know the damage these claims can cause especially on one's mental health.

To finish, I would like to share my advice for all the self-titled gurus or the celebrity experts who may be reading this. You are not an expert. Just because somebody uses beauty products, it doesn't make them a dermatologist. Just because somebody has read a book about nutrition, it doesn't make them a nutritionist or a dietician. Take responsibility for what you promote. Don't make claims when you don't know the first thing about what you're preaching. And if in doubt, in the words of Simon Cowell, stick to your day job.

To Vote, or not to Vote? That is the Question.

People always build your first voting experience up to be significant. It's supposed to mark a transition into adulthood, an inaugural moment to make your voice heard. However, as I dashed into the polling station, soaked through by the rain, I did not feel a sense of empowerment. Instead, I was shivering and wondering how long it would be until I could go home, have a hot bath and then watch Jack Whitehall's latest show on Netflix. After giving my name and address to the nice man, I was handed my ballot paper. I scrawled a cross next to my chosen party, slipped the paper into the box and hurried back outdoors to brave the elements. That was it. By any standards, not an experience to write home about and one which I will cease blogging about.

Truth be told, politics is not my forte. Personally, I would rather while away an evening, watching Made In Chelsea than yawn my way through an episode of Question Time. While I will never be a dedicated LBC listener (much to my father's disappointment), I do believe politics is important. I've always strived to keep track of what's going on, even if that means wading through the esoteric manifestos. However, this general election has been shambolic. And I can safely say, I am not the only one who feels this apathy.

Our trust in politicians has been wearing thin for the past few years. Back in the summer, for example, the public including myself, were more fixated by Love Island, as opposed to who was going to run our country. This particular general election has not only broken records for being the most boring and joyless period in political history; it has marked a climax of this unpopularity contest. As voters, we are not choosing who is the best out of the best. It is instead a question of holding our noses and working out who is the least worst or the least capable candidate of dragging our country further into the mire.

I feel we are entitled to throw shade at our politicians. They have, quite frankly, made the UK into a global laughing stock, with their bickering and dithering and empty promises. If we didn't already know our MPs were childish, we certainly do now, thanks to Bojo's antics on Wednesday. I mean, evading a journalist by playing hide and seek in a fridge? It might be imaginative but are we really still in year five?

Aside from the embarrassing blunders and a united loss of the will to live, this whole election has been shrouded in a much darker overtone of fear and uncertainty. Many of these MPs may be highly educated. But they don't know the first thing about empathy, about respect and about what this country truly needs.

And of course, at the heart of all the scandal and delusion, there is the Brexit board game on our hands. To think over four years ago, the word Brexit didn't even exist. Now, the B word is positively ubiquitous, dominating everything from our headlines to our social media feeds. As if we weren't fed up enough already, increasing numbers of companies are now cashing in and jumping aboard the band waggon, emblazoning their merchandise with political slogans. The other day I saw a Brexit Christmas jumper and I literally wanted to cry. Firstly, who would waste their money on that? And secondly, how have we reached a point where we are tainting the festive cheer with such misery? We have to ask ourselves: what lies in store? Will TV franchises start commissioning Brexit themed spin-off shows to add to the mix? I mean, the options are endless. We could have Deal Or No Deal. Alternatively, what about a Take Me Out Brexit special? It would be far more entertaining than the usual mind-numbing debates. We could scrap the bombastic speakers and instead have Paddy McGuinness, keeping order over the MPs. Just imagine it: Boris Johnson dancing down the lift before delivering his deal. Then, when voting, they could adopt the 'no likey, no lighty approach', and if in an instance of a majority, Paddy could announce 'congratulations you've got yourself a deal, you're going to the Isle of The Singles Market!'. Better still, ITV could do a spin-off jungle called I'm A Brexiteer Get Me Out of Here, in which we send the MPs to the Australian outback and force them to eat cockroaches until they come up with a solution. Jezza and Bojo would probably tear each other to shreds or push each other off that bridge at the end. But let's be honest, it would be quality TV at its finest.

Whether those of us desire or disdain of Brexit, I think the principle remains: we are sick and tired of it. Our politicians are not listening. They are messing around and tampering with our future as if it is all a game.

But alas, time is ticking and, as we speak, our votes are being counted. Within a matter of hours, we will be finding out who has been given the set of keys to 10 Downing Street. Whatever happens, it's going to be tight. Let's just hope things don't take a turn for the worse.