It’s raining nudes

Am I the only person in the world who doesn’t have naked pictures of myself on my phone? Not that I think it is wrong to take nude pictures if you want to, or that it is ever right to hack and publish someone else’s pictures. But why would you want to pose in the first place? I’m sure I’m being extremely naive and unimaginative, but I just don’t see the appeal. At ALL.

Maybe it’s because all my head and shoulders selfies turn out so monstrous, but the idea of venturing any lower  – even to the collarbones – is not appealing. I do not want to be there, in the unappetising flesh, looking like the before shot in a Weightwatchers ad, or like Lucien Freud’s monumental Benefits Supervisor canvas. And I am really surprised that these actors, who are used to being beautifully lit by the finest Hollywood artists, or being airbrushed for hours for magazine covers, actually want to take nudie snaps with a shaky, pixel-poor phone against a backdrop of Ikea flatpack furniture.


Probably they are really, really good photographers, the furniture is Louis Quinze rather than Ikea 2014, and they are so gorgeous that an iPhone can’t make their wobbly bits look well, wobbly. But even way back when I was young and lissome myself (admittedly some time ago now) I wouldn’t have wanted to get my entire kit off and then keep the results anywhere near me.

Which brings me to my next point: who, having rashly taken a bunch of nudie pics, would then entrust them to something called ‘the Cloud’? Even the techiest people I know (and, remember, I know teenage boys) don’t really seem to understand this Cloud thing that everyone is stuffing all their precious secrets into. Maybe the clue is in the name – Cloud. Clouds leak, don’t they? Real clouds drop rain, information clouds reveal celebrities flashing their bits.

The moral of the story – always keep your raincoat on. And get an umbrella.

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