Too many of them these days when they aren't engaged in self absorbed naval gazing, they get on their soapboxes to impart their wisdom to the proletariat on a whole gamut of issues: Like these
How we could all be a lot greener by never going on plane again, whilst they simultaneously whizz round the globe preferably on a private gas guzzling private jet to impart self denial will save the planet notion to the lowly serfs who may want just one holiday a year which involves a flight. Sometimes, the really, really earnest ones get to address important world summits held incongruously to raise awareness with other pontificating arses deeply aware environmentalists who are terribly worried about all the flights going to and from Alicante, which clearly contribute to the melting of the ice caps. So concerned are they about the irresponsibility of the average citizen, they take the time to fly in from various parts of the globe on private aircraft prone to emit, ehm let me think what, oh yeah that would be carbon emissions!!!! and if like one well known --pontificating git rock star you forget your hat, fly it out separately with a hat minder-- but mea culpa he's planted a tree, in fact 10 trees, so that's alright then!--
Gush and cry when making an announcement about their sexuality, which is usually common knowledge anyway. Let all c'lebie mates hug and kiss you and tell you how brave you are whilst they gush and cry.
Ask to be referred to as "they" because not only are they not sure how they define their gender, they're also not sure how many there are of them, hence the plural pronoun. Gush and cry a lot after making their declaration.
Visit refugee camps and proclaim one of their many homes will be given over to house at least one family. Gush and cry a lot during this interview, dabbing eyes at frequent intervals to showcase elaborate manicure proving not only you care a lot but are bang up to date with some snazzy nail art.
Give deeply caring and earnest speeches from one's fourteen bedroomed, 30 bathroomed house fairly largish home about the same old, same old about high profile and worthy issues making sure all the while that you turn to your spouse at 10 second intervals to nod in approval and encouragement, but more importantly to make sure they are following pre prepared mantras to the letter. Staging said interview in the smallest cosiest room in the house where the lighting is subtle, preferably ethically sourced candles, crystals and worthy reading material strategically arranged around one's humble hovel.
Then there are the blatant exhibitionists like these:
Have oneself photographed nude or semi nude showcasing humungous surgically enhanced arse substantial derriere. Giving out the message that it's deeply empowering for women to objectify themselves, rather than men doing it for them.
Release a sex tape, whilst all the while declaring one's mortification.
Have a baby, get engaged, do regular interviews about post natal hell, losing weight, via boot camp, get engaged, get him and her tattoos, have baby get baby's name tattooed along with geographical coordinates of where they were born, what their name means in Sanskirt/Hebrew or some other load of old bollocks something slightly weird and wonderful. Have a big fat vulgar wedding no expense spared nuptials, drag a lot of other z rated c'lebs you hardly know along to it to be photographed for umpteen pages in some naff mag. Repeat six months later in the form of vow renewals. Follow up by big fat divorce and numerous interviews how the swine cheated on you, vow to live alone devote yourself to child/ren. A couple months later meet the love of your life repeat process, baby, post natal hell, tattoo baby's name, lose weight via boot camp, get engaged, have bust implants taken out and bigger ones put in, new veneers, get married, find a space on body to put new his and her tattoos, renew vows, get divorced vow to live alone find new love and repeat process ad infinitum..........Then go bankrupt! but realise not that bad because now opportunities to write about "my bankrupt hell"
To move heaven and earth to acquire a female child after umpteen boring male children and take comfort in the fact that you will now have someone to leave vast handbag collection to. Being of the female persuasion how we can sympathise how that unclaimed legacy would pray on a woman's mind, how can she ever expect to reach nirvana if the weight of worry as to her Chanel/Birkins floating off into the ether without a female heir to see they are housed and cared for in perpetuity until she, the greatly desired female child, lines up an appropriate "they" to fulfil such a load of pretentious old drivel wish for her -- old bits of dead crocodile-- amazing collection of iconic handbags. Stare at ground a lot when emerging into paparazzi cameras, pretend you are in fact a private person and don't want this attention, prove it by grimacing most of the time, whilst simultaneously releasing almost on a daily basis mundane everyday minutiae such as pictures of what looks like frogs' spawn but is actually a yummy breakfast under the guise of a rare glimpse in family's blissful life during lockdown.
How lucky we are to have such wonderful people to give us inspiration as we go about our lowly lives.