Note the pretentious setting: piano surrounded by candles, presumably scented with jasmine. Note the initial “Delta playing piano” section to demonstrate that Delta can indeed play the piano. Note the movement into farce half way through as she steps away from the piano (even through inexplicably the piano somehow keeps playing), walks to centre stage and deploys some vintage Kate Bush theatrical dancing that veers awfully close to Mr. G. Note also that she cannot hit the high notes. And note ALSO that this most theatrical of lovesongs is about The Poo, possibly the dimmest man alive, as the exquisite Age of Love reality show proved.
She wants to be sugar-sweet, but she’s part of the fame machine: I don’t technically have a problem with plastic surgery unless it's systematically concealed and written off as natural beauty (“I’ve discovered yoga”, “I’ve lost my puppy fat”). This makes other people feel bad and entrenches generic beauty codes. Particularly for Delta who has legions of 4 year olds following her every move, her transformation into Malibu Barbie seems a bit jarring. The photos do not lie [although for legal reasons they are perhaps misleading]. Delta has had [seems to have had] one (or two) nose jobs, which provides more evidence of tension between her quest for artistic credibility and her counter-tendency towards lowest common-denominator conventionality. It’s kind of like Tori Amos getting botox, although at least she had the courage to admit to a bit of “feng shui of the face”.
Compelling? And for even more evidence...
She should stop shoving her relationship with Brian McFadden in our faces: That’s right. Some of my best friends are married. I don’t have a problem with marriage. But I don’t have to see it every day. Keep it to yourselves, keep it in the bedroom.
