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Alcohol final resort even in Reality
show
IN Israel and Cyprus, when I was growing up, young people
simply didn't drink. We weren't angels, and we ran risks like
wandering off alone into the countryside, or around the cities
that would horrify many parents today. But we did not get
drunk.
Yet in Britain now, there is a culture of binge drinking
that can border on alcoholism.
I am always shocked, when I entertain student gatherings,
at the amount of booze that flows.
A friend of my son asked me to give a lecture to law students
at Reading University last week and, naturally, I was delighted.
Most of them were lovely young people, like the three beautiful
girls who threw their arms around me for a snapshot. But there
was a knot of hecklers who were plainly the worse for drink,
and at one stage I had to threaten to walk off the stage.
''I'm not going to talk to you if you're going to be disrespectful,''
I told them, and their friends made them pipe down. These
youngsters are not louts.
They are the solicitors and barristers of tomorrow, heading
for high-pressure lifestyles, and it amazes me that schools
and colleges turn a blind eye to bouts of heavy drinking.
It's a very dangerous habit to learn, and an even tougher
one to break. If these kids cannot relax without getting incoherently
intoxicated, how are they going to keep an even keel when
life gets rocky?
Exams can be stressful, but there are worse things in life
- divorce, redundancy, illness.
Alcohol abuse is the worst way to respond to catastrophe
but, for anyone who has been drinking hard since student days,
a skinful of beer or whisky is usually the first line of defence,
not the last resort.
I'm lucky - like about 25 per cent of Jews, I have a metabolism
that simply cannot tolerate alcohol. One glass of red wine
and I'm sliding under the table, so I stick to mineral water.
Yehuda Neumark, an epidemiologist at the School of Public
Health and Community Medicine at the Hadassah-Hebrew University
Medical Centre in Jerusalem, studied the DNA of 145 Jewish
men in the city and found both Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jews
were 20 times more likely than Caucasian males to have a genetic
enzyme structure which made it hard for them to process alcohol.
In other words, people like me are well advised to stay away
from booze. But then, so should everyone.
I suspect that, over the next couple of weeks, I am going
to get a chance to see heavy drinking in close-up and it's
not a prospect which fills me with excitement.
By the time you read this. I will be locked in a house with
11 other contestants, all of them stars from Reality TV series.
Some of them I have met, but I don't know any of them properly
and we're going to be sharing a kitchen, a bathroom, even
a dormitory for up to three weeks.
I've known this was coming for months but, since I was sworn
to contractual secrecy and because I am deeply apprehensive
about the whole show, I have put it out of my mind.
Even now, as I write on the eve of the first broadcast, I
don't know quite who will be sharing my life for the rest
of this month.
There's James Hewitt, former lover of Princess Di, and Ricardo
from the Salon; Jade Goody, who like Jordan is a much smarter,
sweeter kid than most people realise, and Nick Bateman, who
seems to glory in his reputation for nastiness.
I can't say I'm thrilled at the thought of sharing a bedroom
with Rik Waller from Pop Idol, and I missed Wife Swap so I
know nothing of Lizzie Bardsley except her daunting reputation.
I know barely anything more about the format of the programme.
People have been dropping hints that we might be split into
teams and set to compete at tasks, but perhaps that's a smoke
screen.
Let's face it, no one mentioned eating insects before I flew
off to the outback for I'm A Celebrity - Get Me Out of Here.
One thing is for sure: I will have no qualms about walking
off the set if life becomes unbearable.
John Lydon made the right choice when the monotony for the
jungle started to make him anxious and depressed - it's a
step I won't be afraid to make.
One of my biggest concerns is the cigarette smoke. If people
think they can light up in front of me, they are in for a
rude discovery.
I felt this way before I'm A Celeb - nervous, wary, ready
to bail out. That will vanish as soon as I step on to the
set. I'm thinking positively, and focusing on the opportunity
to have a lot of fun during the show.
When the chemistry of a Reality series works well, you can
make real friends. And let's be honest, there's a lot to be
nervous about.
The climactic broadcasts of I'm A Celeb this year drew 16
million viewers. If you lived 10 lifetimes you would not meet
that many people yet audiences that size could be watching
me as I clean my teeth every morning or snore on my pillow.
Who wouldn't be nervous?
There's one excellent reason to swallow my fear and get on
with it: the winner walks away with £75,000 to donate
to charity. That's real motivation.
My public profile means I am constantly being approached
by people whose lives could be improved beyond measure by
a cash injection and I know how urgent many of these cases
are. I'm going to give it everything I've got.
Before the doors close on us, there will be time for a family
farewell.
They say the condemned man always eats a hearty breakfast,
well I'm getting ready for dinner in our favourite Lebanese
restaurant and I intend to make a meal of it!
Back to Reality is screened by Channel 5 every night at 8pm.
Email
him at uri@urigeller.com
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