Human behaviour: can anyone shock us any more?

1:40pm Thursday 11th February 2010

By Oliver Phillips

ARE we capable of being shocked any more by human behavior? Can we reach for (or happen to see) a down-market national newspaper and be truly stunned by the headlines?

What could really shock us? Just recently we have had a flurry of headlines on a saga which are, in essence: Footballer commits adultery.

Now that is hardly sensational. I would be more surprised to see a headline: Government minister tells the truth. That would really have me reaching for the newspaper.

But we are no more likely to see that than a headline: MP’s come clean or Ryan Air Fares with no hidden extras.

There are certain things that are impossible in my book, or are, at the very least, a contradiction in terms: “cheap airport parking” or “Keira Knightley can act” or “Gallagher brothers’ social etiquette guide”.

The John Terry saga rumbles on. Of course Chelsea FC do not have a monopoly on adulterous footballers nor is the trend limited to football but I had to smile. The Stamford Bridge manager came out in his broken English to say what a great man Terry is and then the Chelsea captain thanked the Stamford Bridge faithful for supporting him in his hour of need.

I should imagine Wayne Bridge’s ex-girlfriend did pretty much the same for JT, if what we read is true, although probably and hopefully the Chelsea fans were more vocal than physical.

And what of this lady at the eye of the hurricane? She suddenly appeared with Max Clifford, the publicist, consulting him about her next best move.

Now I hate this trend. It shatters my former adolescent illusions. I was always led to believe if you became a famous actor or singer or hero, ladies would fling themselves at you. It could be argued it was one of the perks of fame, if you were that way inclined. But it seems nowadays the ladies fling themselves at you with one arm behind their back, the other holding notebook and pencil or with a tape recorder concealed in their cleavage, ready to reveal all on paper, and publicly give you marks out of ten for performance.

I guess fame ain’t what it used to be. Nowadays, it is as cheaply obtained as it is cheaply dispensed.

But what of Max Clifford and the latest revelations? After an ominous quiet, which we suspected hid a protracted bidding war, we were told we were going to be spared the details of the affair. We were going to be left to speculate as to whether what goes around comes around and if Mr Terry dressed up in a David Mellor shirt, saluting the former MP who once dressed up in a Chelsea shirt for his dalliance.

Then the young lady was caught on film, staring at the floor while Mr Clifford read out her statement in which she declined to comment on the controversy, because her first consideration was for her child.

Now as far as I am aware, that child was around at the beginning of the week, when she was considering her options. If she had decided to remain tight-lipped on the subject from the outset, why was there the need to consult Max Clifford? Surely just a dignified statement by a local solicitor, read outside her house for maximum dramatic effect, would have sufficed.

We are left to speculate as to what happened between the first televised chat with Max and the second.

Further we are told, or at least it has been hinted, the type of confessional tsunami that followed Tiger Woods’ row with his Mrs, is unlikely. Is this because there are no other bimbos in the woodwork or because any such bimbos have also discovered a loved one or a dependant whom they have no wish to embarrass?

For most of last week we have been reading various speculations on the lines of will-he or won’t-he? This referred to England manager Fabio Capello, who to my mind took the right action and sacked the skipper, although it must have weighed on his mind, the rivals for the role –Ferdinand and Gerrard – have attracted lurid headlines themselves.

The amazing thing about it all is that Terry was gob-smacked by the decision, one which with a little public show of red-top contrition he might have avoided.

It was too much, I suppose, to expect Terry to volunteer his resignation citing that the intensity of the saga had harmed his image, that of football and his position as an England role model. But then, football and morality have rarely been in consort.

No, I am not condoning nor pilloring Terry for allegedly committing adultery. But when the brown stuff hits the fan and your efforts to prevent it becoming public fail in the courts, you either deny it vehemently and truthfully or quietly and with dignity offer your resignation and retreat into the background.

We are all reassured by the transgressor – he makes us feel better about ourselves – and many forgive the penitent as much through resultant gratitude as anything else.

So what is left? A will-she won’t-she saga for next week: will Mrs Terry decide her husband is all- gold, if not the full 24-carat, and take him back?

I won’t hold my breath. Let’s turn instead to some other news. Oh, dear. Katie Price, aka Jordan, has just married and opined: Why does everyone pick on me?