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Three years ago, I would have shivered with glee at the news.
I would have sat, glued to the screen, watching as Lindsay Lohan begged for her freedom and offered limp laments to a judge.
But as the news of Lohan's sentence came through this week, I barely blinked. Having long ago stopped reading anything about the sad has-been it took me nearly a day to catch up on the news.
The fact is I just don't care what happens to her.
It could be a sign that I've grown up.
Why concern yourself with celebrity jail sentences when you've got a mortgage to think about?
More probably, like so many others, I've just grown tired of celebrities' "luxury problems".
"Oh no, I got drunk on free champagne and vodka at an exclusive night club and then drove my brand new Mercedes into a tree. Woe is me."
Whatever, LiLo. It's not like you couldn't afford a cab home. Or a driver. It would have been the only expense of the night.
Let us recall that this incident happened just three weeks after Paris Hilton was sentenced to 45 days in jail for driving on a suspended licence. A licence which was suspended after she was caught driving under the influence.
Lohan is an old friend of Hilton's. You would think her misfortune would have registered somewhere in Lohan's subconscious?
Apparently not.
Even when Lohan's legal team performed the impossible, avoiding a jail term for the actress on the promise she would attend an alcohol education programme, Lohan continued to flout the law.
"Oh no, my absurdly expensive Harvard-educated lawyers got me off a jail sentence but are making me go to a boring class, once a week, for a whole hour. Woe is me."
Lohan didn't attend these sessions because she had to work.
Why?
Even if she was making a film/record/pair of leggings, the world could happily live without them.
The only thing more pathetic than Lohan's exuses is her sense of humour, which seemed to find it hilarious to paint "F*** You" on her fingernail.
Oh, you joker...
The whole Lilo life saga is tried and tiresome. Cry all you want Lindsay, I'm done with you.
Lock her up, throw away the key. And for God's sake no one put a camera in there.
Read more of Joanna Hunkin's articles.
