Beliebers will be hoping their idol fulfils his ambition to shoot a
video in space, but is the boy saviour fully aware of the risks of
celebrity space travel?
To boldly go: Justin Bieber and fellow celebronauts Leonardo DiCaprio and Ashton Kutcher. Photograph: AP/Guardian montage
Bieber in space. Lost in Showbiz heard the fateful news last week and has not slept since. For the benefit of those who have been remiss with their Justin Bieber
monitors, let us recap: in the manner of Superman, Dr Manhattan and a
thousand other messianic superpowers before him, the almighty teen
sensation has grown weary of our tawdry planet's sham, drudgery and
broken dreams and sought momentary respite beyond the suffocating reach
of Earth's atmosphere.
The star and his manager Scooter Braun – there, presumably, on the off-chance some cheeky extraterrestrial Simon Cowell tries to lure the kid off to break the lucrative teen-pop market in Betelgeuse – are the latest "future astronauts" to sign up for a glimpse of the great beyond with Richard Branson's space tour company, Virgin Galactic. On the logic, Lost in Showbiz boldly assumes, that for once – after what has been four years now of saying "Baby, no!" to Beliebers' pleas for hugs, kisses and leprosy cures – in space, at least, our boy saviour won't be able to hear fans scream.
But Lost in Showbiz's sleepless nights have little to do with the purpose of the trip. Bieber has earned himself a break from the mewling of mere earthlings. Nor does it toss and turn at the thought of living, even for just one day, on a planet no longer graced by the teeny one's presence. (Though it begs you all: when that day is upon us, do not ask LiS to fight the tears.) It is a deeper fear that has kept this column bleary-eyed and barely functioning since it heard: the fear that Bieber does not fully know the dangers of celebrity space flight. For those dangers are legion.
Bieber need only ask actor and Twittersphere behemoth Ashton Kutcher, who knows all too well the true price of becoming a celebronaut. He and girlfriend Mila Kunis have been paying it for at least a fortnight now, not in dollars, but in double dates with Princess Beatrice and her long-term love, Dave Clark, caught by snappers in St Tropez. A price that, let's be clear, was never advertised, and for which even space flight seems too little to gain in return. Clark, you see, works at Virgin Galactic in the "astronaut relations" department, and Kutcher – as his followers will know well – has always held fast to the ancient Greek maxim, from Epictetus, "Keep company only with people who can send you into space".
Others have it still worse. Take Leonardo DiCaprio, who will be forced to make nice with one of his most financially reckless fans during his own trip to the stars, after the seat next to his was sold at a charity auction in Cannes last month for €1.2m (£1m). Lost in Showbiz finds it difficult not to read an implicit "teeheehee" into the quote from Harvey Weinstein: "We're going to get someone to bid on a seat next to him." LiS imagines an enthusiastic sheikh unleashing a barrage of "What was Titanic like? Is Quentin Tarantino nice? Where do films come from?", halted abruptly by DiCaprio with: "Please! You're invading my personal space time."
The greatest danger is not, however, the company, but the danger of disappointment. For let us remind ourselves what the celebronauts can expect – beyond, of course, the chance to stare into the unfathomably vast expanse of Princess Beatrice's face – in return for handing over their $250,000 deposit. According to the Sun, the trip "is a two-hour flight to 60 miles above Earth". Two hours, and 60 miles. That's a slow drive from Leeds to Hull. Albeit one with weightlessness in the middle, in place of the manifold sights and smells of the towns of Gilberdyke and Snaith, but hardly intergalactic in its ambition. The average distance to the moon, by comparison, is about 240,000 miles. So Apollo 13 this surely ain't.
Few are as at risk of disappointment as physicist Stephen Hawking, who has dreamed of visiting space since childhood – at least if you're willing to treat his Specsavers ad as a prologue to a future autobiography, as it must surely have been intended. Branson has offered the great man a free trip to the Hull beyond the clouds, but he should be prepared to suffer the fate of Kutcher and DiCaprio and spend some time in unexpected company, since the six-man shuttle is unlikely to go anywhere with five empty seats. Blast off on the wrong day and Hawking could find himself sharing his boyhood dream with Justin Bieber.
If he does, Bieber won't be sitting quietly. The young celebronaut has already shared his plan for the trip with followers. It is a simple but ambitious one: "Let's shoot a music video in SPACE!!" His fellow fliers – be they physicists or bothered film stars – are unlikely to be obliging. Two hours is a very short time for anything more than a single take. He may even have to double-date a royal. Lost in Showbiz prays he understands the risks.
The star and his manager Scooter Braun – there, presumably, on the off-chance some cheeky extraterrestrial Simon Cowell tries to lure the kid off to break the lucrative teen-pop market in Betelgeuse – are the latest "future astronauts" to sign up for a glimpse of the great beyond with Richard Branson's space tour company, Virgin Galactic. On the logic, Lost in Showbiz boldly assumes, that for once – after what has been four years now of saying "Baby, no!" to Beliebers' pleas for hugs, kisses and leprosy cures – in space, at least, our boy saviour won't be able to hear fans scream.
But Lost in Showbiz's sleepless nights have little to do with the purpose of the trip. Bieber has earned himself a break from the mewling of mere earthlings. Nor does it toss and turn at the thought of living, even for just one day, on a planet no longer graced by the teeny one's presence. (Though it begs you all: when that day is upon us, do not ask LiS to fight the tears.) It is a deeper fear that has kept this column bleary-eyed and barely functioning since it heard: the fear that Bieber does not fully know the dangers of celebrity space flight. For those dangers are legion.
Bieber need only ask actor and Twittersphere behemoth Ashton Kutcher, who knows all too well the true price of becoming a celebronaut. He and girlfriend Mila Kunis have been paying it for at least a fortnight now, not in dollars, but in double dates with Princess Beatrice and her long-term love, Dave Clark, caught by snappers in St Tropez. A price that, let's be clear, was never advertised, and for which even space flight seems too little to gain in return. Clark, you see, works at Virgin Galactic in the "astronaut relations" department, and Kutcher – as his followers will know well – has always held fast to the ancient Greek maxim, from Epictetus, "Keep company only with people who can send you into space".
Others have it still worse. Take Leonardo DiCaprio, who will be forced to make nice with one of his most financially reckless fans during his own trip to the stars, after the seat next to his was sold at a charity auction in Cannes last month for €1.2m (£1m). Lost in Showbiz finds it difficult not to read an implicit "teeheehee" into the quote from Harvey Weinstein: "We're going to get someone to bid on a seat next to him." LiS imagines an enthusiastic sheikh unleashing a barrage of "What was Titanic like? Is Quentin Tarantino nice? Where do films come from?", halted abruptly by DiCaprio with: "Please! You're invading my personal space time."
The greatest danger is not, however, the company, but the danger of disappointment. For let us remind ourselves what the celebronauts can expect – beyond, of course, the chance to stare into the unfathomably vast expanse of Princess Beatrice's face – in return for handing over their $250,000 deposit. According to the Sun, the trip "is a two-hour flight to 60 miles above Earth". Two hours, and 60 miles. That's a slow drive from Leeds to Hull. Albeit one with weightlessness in the middle, in place of the manifold sights and smells of the towns of Gilberdyke and Snaith, but hardly intergalactic in its ambition. The average distance to the moon, by comparison, is about 240,000 miles. So Apollo 13 this surely ain't.
Few are as at risk of disappointment as physicist Stephen Hawking, who has dreamed of visiting space since childhood – at least if you're willing to treat his Specsavers ad as a prologue to a future autobiography, as it must surely have been intended. Branson has offered the great man a free trip to the Hull beyond the clouds, but he should be prepared to suffer the fate of Kutcher and DiCaprio and spend some time in unexpected company, since the six-man shuttle is unlikely to go anywhere with five empty seats. Blast off on the wrong day and Hawking could find himself sharing his boyhood dream with Justin Bieber.
If he does, Bieber won't be sitting quietly. The young celebronaut has already shared his plan for the trip with followers. It is a simple but ambitious one: "Let's shoot a music video in SPACE!!" His fellow fliers – be they physicists or bothered film stars – are unlikely to be obliging. Two hours is a very short time for anything more than a single take. He may even have to double-date a royal. Lost in Showbiz prays he understands the risks.
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