I have always known that I would make a good celebrity. I am a very interesting person and also my mum’s friend Sue thinks I look a bit like Romola Garai, which is encouraging because it shows that someone with my look can be famous. Besides, the only other famous Tabatha is Sarah Jessica Parker’s daughter, and she’s not that famous because she’s only 7 and anyway she spells it “Tabitha”. I would be a celebrity with very good morals. For example, I would never wear animal products on the red carpet.
My Vanity Fair profile would comment on how young I am, even though I’m nearly 26 and that’s actually not very young compared with celebrities like Selena Gomez. I would arrive at the interview on time and I’d answer every question with a personal anecdote because those are the kind of celebrity interviews that I enjoy reading most.
I would order a lasagne for lunch. The journalist would write that down.
If a magazine ever ran one of those features about me where I had to list all the foods I eat in a typical day, I would tell them that I have a bowl of Tesco Value cornflakes every morning, a Pret sandwich for lunch, Kit Kats throughout the day, and whatever’s in my fridge for dinner. I’d admit that last week I ordered Papa John’s twice and I was neither drunk nor hungover either time.
I would give the world’s best Grammy/Oscar/Wimbledon Cup acceptance speech. Its takeaway message would be “If I can do it, you can too,” but less cheesy than that. I know I am good at acceptance speeches because I practise in the car sometimes and I always make myself cry. I would remember to thank my school drama/music/sports teachers and my last line would be “No thanks to you, Lydia” because she was a real bitch to me in year 9.
I wouldn’t have cellulite on my thighs any more. I don’t know how it would disappear, but it would.
I would talk publicly about the benefits of vegetarianism. I would make a whole bunch of hard-hitting documentaries about either the environment or the sex industry. I would buy my mum a nice house. I would keep the same friend group. I would pick one world problem (probably homelessness) and just solve it. Even though it’s not the mid-’00s any more, someone would do a kiss-and-tell on me and I would write a widely shared blog post about how it’s really no one’s business but my own. I’d give an intensely emotional televised interview with someone less crap than Piers Morgan. I wouldn’t get veneers or hair extensions or false eyelashes. I would still be scared of drugs.
I’d go on Celebrity Come Dine With Me and Celebrity Big Brother, and I’m a Celebrity…Get Me Out of Here! On all of those programmes I would make sure that I came across as vulnerable so the public would like me. I’d write a best-selling book and I’d send pizzas to the fans who came to the signings to say sorry for not being there. I wouldn’t purposely lose weight, but I might as well make use of my personal trainer so I guess I would naturally get a bit slimmer. I’d do a quick fitness DVD to fund a family holiday. The paparazzi would photograph me on holiday and publish pictures of my celebrity boyfriend and me canoodling on a beach and smoking something that was definitely just tobacco and I’d complain about how being famous shouldn’t mean you have to give up your right to privacy and I just needed a bit of time away from the press who literally will not leave me alone and can’t they understand that I just wanted to spend a bit of time away with my family ffs.
I’d get married at least as many times as Joan Collins, I’d name all my babies after fruits, and in the end my gravestone would read, “In memory of Tabatha Leggett. She was really very famous.”