KEY POINTS:
Do you know who I am?" It's a cliche used by celebrities who find themselves unrecognised and therefore not the recipient of preferential treatment.
The most recent recorded example of its use was when Black Cap Jesse Ryder abused Christchurch Hospital emergency staff after a late-night injury, proving that in that simple phrase lies the backbone of celebrity - entitlement.
I'm not sure when the robe of entitlement is self applied by celebrities. Is it when their income exceeds that of the Prime Minister? Is it when someone stops them in the street and blushingly confesses to loving their work?
Or is it simply when the disease of entitlement takes hold?
It starts off with simple perks, such as receiving flash cars for nothing, simply because the car people like to see them driven by celebrities.
Then there's the clothing, jewellery, makeup, holidays and invitations. All harmless stuff, in the beginning. Put them under the x-ray and you'll find no mysterious lumps present.
Extra money is then earned for sharing those most-personal moments of their life. Their relationships, marriages and babies.
Privacy is no longer an issue as more stories are proffered for more cash - the "at homes" and the "my best ever holiday".
The intention is that the more a celebrity reveals, the more people will like them, relate to them, and admire them. Step inside, love.
Whip them under the radar and you'll see the disease progressing. The tiniest of tumours, barely detectable to the naked eye. This is when the sense of entitlement goes beyond material entitlements and snakes its way into celebrity behaviour with the determination of a cancer.
The right to take drugs and party. Have sex with anyone they like. Demand that everything goes their way, or else. Within months, a normal person who was checked by the Plunket nurse and grew up eating Weetbix just like you and me takes that trip to Planet Entitlement, where life is one big, ego-driven narcissistic party.
The disease is terminal, in full flush, and if a commoner should visit Planet Entitlement they will quickly find the only conversation going in that part of the world is me, me and the other me.
Then one day it all goes horribly wrong. The disease of entitlement no longer stretches its tentacles into the far-flung galaxy of despicable, detestable, indefensible behaviour. Those words "Do you know who I am?" no longer have their desired effect.
Instead, a new entitlement is demanded: "Please respect my privacy". A request strangely absent during the fun-fest of "share my life" stories, and the previous revelations of personal details.
The celebrity can now be diagnosed with Narcissistic Personality Disorder by determining that they have five of the following conditions: a grandiose sense of self-importance, preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love; believes that he or she is "special"; requires excessive admiration; has a sense of entitlement; is interpersonally exploitative; lacks empathy; is often envious of others or believes others are envious of him or her; shows arrogant, haughty behaviours or attitudes.
Sound like someone we know? A radio host in the United States, who frequently interviewed celebrities, asked each one over a few years to fill in a psychological questionnaire assessing their likelihood of having the disorder. He found that all of them did, but the ones who scored least were musicians, who seemed to have a talent other than being famous. The highest scorers were female reality-show contestants.
There is no cure for Narcissistic Personality Disorder apart from changing the way we view them. Just as public service ads for those with mental illness ask us to "know me before you judge me", perhaps we need to respond to those words "do you know who I am?" with a definitive "no, and please don't tell me".
