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Oh, so Now, I'm famous?

Now's Judas kiss of fame does have its benefits. Women secretly contemplate throwing their underwear at me and I can get away with wearing sunglasses indoors

Last week I ended up on Now magazine's gossip Web site next to Kelly Osbourne -- with half my face cropped off. The picture elevated my right eyeball to previously unseen levels of stardom, but with the rest of my body feeling a little unwanted, I retaliated by posting my own version of the picture with half of Kelly's face missing. Nobody disrespects the left side of Rory Reid's face.

Today, it appears Now has seen the error of its ways. One of the company's representatives contacted me via email to say that having read my blog, Now had re-published the image of Kelly and I as nature intended, restoring my rightful status as heir to the throne of Z-listery (410,114,184th in line). "Apologies for the confusion," read the note. "Please let me know if you spot anything else."

Some famous rocker's daughter and Rory Reid

Actually, Now, I have spotted something. Now you've dragged me kicking and screaming into the realm of the showbiz elite, I can no longer lead a normal life. I must now shop in Marks & Spencer, lest the redtops spot me slumming it in my local Safeway. This morning I had to leave the house wearing sunglasses and a large hat to ensure I wasn't recognised by awaiting paparazzi.

Unfortunately, one audacious pap had slept overnight in the Porsche daddy bought me and, possibly still sozzled on free champagne from the previous evening at China White, I didn't spot the camera-wielding blighter until it was too late.

My newfound stardom has begun to affect my relationships with those around me. Jealous CNET UK colleagues have begun refusing to do lunch, and my girlfriend demands to know my whereabouts every second of the day, in case I'm involved in an illicit love tryst with Scarlett Johansson, Angelina Jolie or both of them simultaneously in a hot tub.

Now's Judas kiss of fame does have its benefits. Women secretly contemplate throwing their underwear at me even more than they did before, and I can now get away with wearing sunglasses indoors and even at night.

But they can't make up for the ultimate downside: us celebs die younger. We become the victims of our own seductive appeal, burn out and pass before our time. What Now has done is to make me the Elvis of laptop reviews, the Tupac of Car Tech, the Heath Ledger of CNET UK. Now has killed me.

I might as well put the netbooks down, shave half my head and make a sex tape with Jude Law's nanny. I hope you're happy, Now.