Hiding in Plain Sight By Holly Searle

When I was a wee nipper, everything, or so it appeared was much more simpler.

But looking back, it would seem that I was conned. For now most of those whom we were encouraged to have faith in, were in fact nothing more than a band of malevolent tricksters.

So maybe simpler isn't the right word. Maybe the correct word to use would in fact be naïve.

And of course, whilst my childhood may have had access to a much more sophisticated array popular culture outlets than that of my parents, or theirs before them for that matter. I now feel as though I have to discounts a large proportion of it as if it had never existed, or that I was even a willing participant in it.

And I wonder how many others of my generation felt a rush of envy at those boys and girls who were selected to appear on prime time shows and Christmas specials to meet their telly idols, or who got to tick off one of their wishes.

I know I did.

I can remember quite clearly writing a letter. Dear Jim it started. Of course, when the program that featured the heartthrob was screened on the box in the corner, I couldn't help feeling really quite disappointed that I hadn't been chosen.

Why not me I thought? I felt pretty rubbish and came to conclude that I just wasn't special enough, and sloped off to distract myself with something else to do in my bedroom.

Oh well, never mind. All it had really cost me was a minor upset and the price of a stamp, and a fast track in the educational stakes that idolatry didn't pay.

And whilst if I had been one of the chosen few, I would have remembered it for the rest of my life either with great fondness or immense embarrassment, depending of the age I was at the time of my point of view. In retrospect, having not been chosen probably saved me from something much much more sinister.

And whilst we spent a majority of our childhood playing outside. Today parents worry endlessly and quite rightly so about Stranger Danger and the like, and allow their children much less freedom. Whatever you do children, do not speak to an adult that you do not know. Never get into a car with someone however good their intentions may appear. For it is better to be safe than sorry.

So I am not sorry that I wasn't picked.

But there is an irony here, for whilst there have always been good and bad people in the world, a majority of those from my childhood were hiding in plain slight. There they all resided in the box that beamed their faux persona’s into the living rooms of our formative years.

Can you guess what it is yet? Do you want to be in my gang? Your letter was only the start of it. It's getting better and now you're a part of it.

How prolifically self mocking at all of our expenses those words now become.

It was as though they all knew exactly what they were doing and getting away with it without ever being questioned.

And even though this is not a remote historical occurrence, you can read either of Kenneth Anger's Hollywood Babylon books to discover that the abuse of the innocent under the shadow of stardom is nothing new. It would appear to have bottled necked in this portion of my childhood. Or maybe it was always there and that the chosen few decided to collectively speak up as they were no longer willing to hide in the a remote hinterland as those in plain sight began to fade.


And I bet there is more to come. More vile unadulterated revelation from witnesses about those that you never would have suspected.

And hopefully our children having been spoon fed the media's own guilt will be wiser than we were.

The question that remains though folks, and one that we should all maybe ask ourselves, is who has replaced our malevolent tricksters?

Bet you'll be more shocked than your children.