I can’t deny that Heat magazine is a
popular publication with readership stats that at its peak have topped 700,000
but having bought a copy for the first time this week it’s not difficult to see
why its average weekly sale has started to lose steam (Weekly sales are reported to have fallen to
261,715).
From
beginning to end it has a tendency to come across like that bitchy group of
girls we all knew at school. You know the ones, slagging you off behind the
bike sheds as they have a fag because you’ve put on a bit of weight and your
clothes aren’t right. The next minute they’re your best mate giving you a
makeover and saying how fabulous you look because you’ve embarked on a fitness
regime that’s slimmed you down into “ one of them”. And all the while they are
bitching about you behind your back hoping you’re not about to run off with
their boyfriend.
Editor in
chief Lucie Cave was quoted in the Guardian as saying that the magazine is
supposed to be “ cheeky and fun not mean “ but in my opinion it all just comes
across as a bit vacuous and vacant. Something it has in common with some of the
celebs featured inside its hallowed pages.
In short it’s
the print equivalent of the cast of The Only Way is Essex.
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