Why I acted like a complete fangirl when I bumped into a celebrity, even though I didn't like that particular celebrity very much

Better hair, better clothes, better looking, better bodies. Celebrities are better versions of us, generally, except the unhinged ones like Britney. I am a little bit obsessed with celebrities. Even ones I don’t like.

Case in point - this weekend I pressed the button for the lift, the doors opened and out walked Michelle Heaton, with husband and baby in pram. Just the baby in a pram, to be clear. The husband was walking all of his own accord.

Now, I don’t care much for Michelle Heaton. It took me a few minutes to remember the name of the band she was in once. She’s got a weird face. I have avoided that reunion show she’s in now. But thanks to the punch to the face that is popular culture, coming at you from every magazine, website and Twitter, I know her husband is called Hugh and she went on This Morning and had a cry.

So when the doors opened, it was like the doors to mysterious Celeb World were opening, one I usually only get to see voyeuristically. The paths between celeb and mere mortal momentarily crossed as out walked a vision of beauty, an angel, a FAMOUS PERSON, met by me, slightly hungover, slightly hungry, my Topshop hoodie metaphorically insulting her designer clothes and sky high heels.

It was as much as I could do not to grab her and tell her I loved her and thought the way she got her figure back after her pregnancy was inspirational. Even though I don’t necessarily think that, I thought it in the moment, as I gushed internally and tried to play it cool, graciously allowing the famous person to exit the lift. I even let her husband push the baby pram out before I barged my way in. I presumed my sister, who was with me, was playing it equally cool, but as soon as the lift doors shut and I yelled THAT WAS MICHELLE HEATON! I realised I was the only one playing it cool, she just hadn’t even realised she was breathing the same air as a girl from a pop band made famous in 2001.

Why do I love celebrities so? Why do magazines sell hundreds of thousands of issues a week based on which pretty little thing they’ve got adorning the cover? Because I am nosy and they know it.

There’s no point beating myself up about it, it’s always been this way. A few generations ago, we were fascinated by the make-believe lives in soap operas. Now we’re fascinated by the make-believe lives of real people living in a kind of quasi-world, for our entertainment. Once, cave women were fascinated by the unattainable, thinner cave women in the next village, who had better hair and better rocks. Probably.

My husband tells me we're neurologically hardwired to ‘follow’, it's a survival mechanism that's evolved over thousands of years. The trouble now is that the media confuse our chimp-like brains into thinking these celebs are worthy 'leader' material. Which of course in 99% of cases they're most definitely not.

So it’s human nature, see? Throw in the endless marketing potential this allows and you can quickly see the snowball effect of celebrity culture. Which makes me feel better about the fact I only own a pair of brown suede boots because Jennifer Aniston sported a pair.

Oh, Jennifer Aniston. Don’t get me started on her. If she came out of a lift I was waiting to get into, I would probably wet myself and hump her leg. Thank goodness it was only Michelle Heaton and I was able to remain relatively composed.

Kim's been writing Lunacy of Ink for five years, and likes badminton, piano, and not watching TV - she's in the 1% of the population who doesn't own a telly. She's also in the 10% of the population who are left handed, leading her to wonder how many other people are left handed and don't own a TV. (She's probably the only one.) Kim's married to a very lucky man. He's better at badminton and the piano than her, but she still loves him. She tweets at @LunacyofInk and is very funny.