Tweenagers these days...

I've read all the Twilight books. I can sing you Vanessa Hudgens song from High School Musical. So I like to think I'm down with the tweens - heck, sometimes at work I'm frankly considered to be one of their kind. But today I realised my grip is slipping. I'm actually getting old. (I'd like to point out here I'm 25.) This was the emotionally scarring situation. 

I'm having a cigarette outside the Soho Hotel waiting to interview an American TV star at a press junket. A group of young girls, who looked no more than 12, were busy hitting their slightly overweight, staring-into-space mums over the head with rolled up posters and screaming at them 'When's she going to come out?' A blacked out people carrier backs into the hotel's driveway. Two bodyguards and the hotel doorman cause a commotion by shouting at the scrum of paps. In the meantime, 'she' has dived straight into the car and out of sight. 'Demi. Demi. Demi,' the kids - by now blocking the car's way out, their mums snapping into action armed with cameras and autograph pens - bay in unison. 'Please, Demi. Please...' One starts to cry, fighting through crowd to press her face against the mirrored window. Suddenly the door opens. 'Oh don't cry,' an American voice chimes. 'She' has relented and come out to meet her fans. 'It's ok, I'm here,' the girl, who can't be more than 14 and can't walk in her three-inch Louboutin strappy sandals, says to reassure the sobbing tween. (By the way, I've since learnt she's one of the stars in tween flick Hannah Montana). Cameras flash and A3 posters are unfurled as the rest of the kids crowd around to get what's bound to be their next facebook profile picture/eBay sale. Within a minute it's over and the over-protective bodyguards usher Demi back into the car. The 12-year-old wailer meanwhile wanders back towards us. 'I only cried to get her to come out of the car,' she snarls at us triumphantly. I'm speechless. And so, a new generation of citizen papparazzis are born...