MY bit-part role in a modern combination remake of Wuthering Heights / Romeo & Juliet was going well.

So well, that I could quite understand how the lead character in Ricky Gervais's new comedy, Extras, became obsessed with attempting to win minor roles in second-rate films.

The mist was swirling and the drama was unfolding.

Kylie (Cathy) was worried about her daughter, who had apparently started dressing "Like she's 25, not fif-flippin'-teen", and had attracted the attention of Wayne (Heathcliff) down the road.

Amidst the fog, a woman (Juliet) obscured by the artificial steam was telling anyone who would listen that a combination of exercise, sex and sessions in the sauna had helped her return to the weight she was before she gave birth. She didn't know who the father was (it will turn out to be Romeo), but felt attractive and ready to hit the clubs once again.

Romeo, meanwhile, had apparently suffered a good beating at the hands of a gangland family called the Capulets.

Me? I said nothing. This was partly because I had no desire to share the details of my life with complete strangers, preferring instead a spot of ear-wigging.

Also, as an extra, they would have to pay me if I spoke.

When I opened my eyes, I awoke to the fact that I was actually sitting in a steam room at a local health club, with a group of people trying to make the normality of their lives sound interesting - a bit like my imagination was attempting to do for me.

It's happening all over. Down the gym, in the pub or restaurant, people are desperate to relay just how exciting their lives are.

"My band are on the verge of being signed by a major label, you know."

It's partly the fault of the media for encouraging everyone to shout about themselves - but mostly, as with practically everything else, America is to blame.

We not only now dress like Americans, we eat as much as them, listen to the same music as them, join them in war and, finally, make as much noise as them.

And generally it is noise about nothing.

"I've heard the scouts have been down to watch our Elvis." That will be the boy scouts, then.

It seems we are all trying to make a statement, be it by word of very large mouth or by what we wear - such as shirts with the maker's name emblazoned across the front, or a phrase such as "Don't look at what you can't afford". The problem is, we are not actually saying anything worthwhile.

People feel the need to sell an unreal version of themselves just to keep up with whatever it is they are supposed to be keeping up with.

When it was called "Keeping up with the Joneses" it involved "bettering oneself", which probably meant finding a trade and educating yourself. Even those who weren't well read pretended to be. People might hide their tabloid inside The Daily Telegraph, whereas these days people think GQ and FHM are qualifications, and looking bright involves disguising The Beano inside a copy of Heat.

Me, I'm in talks with a major film director, you know.