Fame, glory, adulation, it was once, a very long time ago, the sole preserve of religious icons and martyrs, great warriors (which reads rather  like an oxymoron) and the like. These days just about anyone can be famous, just as Andy Warhol  predicted, but perhaps not quite to the degree he would have expected. Right now Britain is gearing up for another political showdown in the form of a unique and highly undemocratic process we Brits like to call the 'General Election'. General Election doesn't look after his troops. He/she can win (with enough money and influence) the right to spend all of our money, pollute our land, let the old die of cold and bang up everyone with a bad upbringing (even if we haven't any more prisons left to fit them in). Our idea of a majority is barely more than a third of the population by the last count. Seeing as we have never had a 100% turnout, this one apparently minute flaw in the system means a massive amount of the country either doesn't vote, or have their votes ignored, which might explain why so many don't vote in the first place. I wanted to vote for the Green Party in the last local elections but we didn't even have a candidate here. There was a choice between the major three and a fascist party I'd rather not advertise. The truth is the choice is always between two, although it isn't written in law, we see-saw between Tory and Labour every few years and in general, one spends too much, the other rips off the poor, and both lie, incessantly, compulsively, through their teeth.

So with so much apathy abound, what do you think our esteemed political class sees as the solution? Fame! Of course, why didn't I think of that? It has a catchy tabloid namesake too, 'personality politics'. We all know that all the major parties are useless, and despite the Tories crashing the stock market with their unfounded fears that a hung parliament will equate to the end of civilisation as we know it, the truth is they're all running scared. They're all corrupt, they're liars, and they mismanage anything they can get their dirty mitts on, so now they've taken a leaf from war criminal and failed European Presidential nominee Tony Blair's book and decided to pretend they're both likeable and like the public in turn. Gordon Brown is having the most trouble, a gruff and dour Scottish demeanour, a wonky false eye, the inability to smile or apologise for ruining the economy and funding an illegal war doesn't bode well in the popularity stakes. David Cameron is an unknown entity, slimy in character, most likely on David Icke's hit list of most probable lizard people in power, and has a bad habit of saying exactly what anyone tells him they want to hear. Even if it that particular strategy does result in massive swings in political direction and public derision. As for Nick Clegg, the leader of the third party The Liberal Democrats with their usual 10% to 15% of the vote. He's trying his best I suppose, but in truth he looks like a cross between a social worker and an organic farmer on the verge of crying because the factory farm next door regularly spews genetically modified poison over what used to be his hedgerows. So will fame and celebrity help any of them? The short answer is no.

As a kid I watched three very bland channels on a government approved televisual set, the presenters and actors were glib and tight-lipped on the BBC. Mainly because the BBC was squarely aimed at the middle classes, after all the poor couldn't afford TV, and by poor I mean the oppressed working classes. ITV on the other hand did all they could to separate themselves from such timid and deferential behaviour, be it an excessively loud, drunk and most definitely live audience, or racist, sexist, you-name-it-ist sitcoms, terrifyingly scary theme music for the news, or an abundance of awful, terrible, really terribly awful talent shows. 'Talent' being the inoperative word in that last example. Talent wasn't the point, the entertainment came from a lairy audience booing off yet another terrible local pub act. Very very few made it through the prime time ring of fire to minuscule celebrity, those who did were mainly singers and comedians, and were destined if not doomed to perform to decades of chicken in a basket dos, that is when there wasn't any bingo on that week. Fame wasn't really desired back then, most knew it was more work than it was worth and usually left to have a real life instead. Such as the star of 1960s musical extravaganza Oliver Twist, who became a dentist.

Nowadays everyone associates fame with success, and success with fortune, although they never used to go so merrily hand-in-hand. I grew up learning about legions of artists who starved to death in filthy garrets in relative obscurity. Unbeknownst to them many of their works are now sold for the equivalent of the annual GDP of a small South American country. They'd be kicking themselves if they weren't dead.  Luckily for egomaniacs, and unluckily for the rest of us who have to suffer their interminable optimism and dubious talents, if you want to be famous now you don't have to be particularly good at what you do. Even those who are spectacularly bad can become famous, although people insist on adding a couple of letters to the front. Say like George W. Bush, but who really doesn't wants the infamous badge on their lapel at the doors of a red carpet event. No. To receive genuinely positive acclaim, what you need to do is anything anyone tells you to, and smile throughout the whole experience, and if you manage to win any accolades for your substandard drivel, do make sure to thank God, not that I think he'd want to take credit for their screeching, grinning, and dismally bland performance.

If there's such thing as artistic kismet, then I think I'd stake my claim in the photography of Alison Jackson. A woman with a very clear and precise view on fame. It's corrupting and corruptible. It offers a veneer, carefully managed and honed by a team of experts, usually earning more than the personality in question, dedicated to lying to the public at every opportunity. Cheating on your wife doesn't win golf tournaments, it also doesn't make life easy for your sponsors. Same goes for declaring illegal wars in the Middle East, unless that is, you happen to have a massive stake in a Texan oil company.

Alison Jackson takes photos of what we all want to see, even if it hasn't happened, although to be honest nothing she does seems that far fetched, in fact exactly the opposite. Her photographs ring so true you'll probably get a headache. Take a look at what the Media say they don't want you to see because the authorities wouldn't let them, but deep down, they'd sell their souls for the chance.  Fake celebrities abound in Jackson's photos, keep an eye out for Nazi monarchs, dying presidents, a hotel heiress in prison and the obligatory sex scandals, which no piece on fame would be complete without.

See the rest of Alison Jackson's portfolio at http://www.mbfala.com/

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