There's a scene in the film The Truman Show where Jim Carrey's character finally realises his world is a sham. Since birth he has been the unwitting star of a reality show based on his life – a life fabricated by TV producers. He opens the door of the studio and steps out, choosing real life over a virtual one. There's a moral in there somewhere. Probably.

I hate reality television, in particular Big Brother. It's a nasty, cheap programme, the making of which involves little more than pointing the camera at some idiot scratching their backside. I'm also fussy who I spend time with and don't believe in celebrating stupidity. That's why I don't watch it. Big Brother exists in its own reality zone and I live in mine. Recently, it's been encroaching on my territory though.

If you say you haven't heard of Jade Goody then you either don't buy papers or you're lying. Jade was runner-up in Big Brother 2002 and became reality TV's first millionaire. Now she's dying from cervical cancer at 27, cradled in the arms of the British red tops. She says she has sold her death to make money for her sons. There have been some cries of "hypocrite", but, mainly, there is genuine sympathy for this thick, loud-mouthed London girl.

Why? She's never actually DONE anything, other than sell her privacy. What will her legacy be? Why is everybody so upset? Why am I so upset? I'm a card-carrying cynic who couldn't stand her brainless behaviour, which included calling Indian actress Shilpa Shetty a "papadom". Lately, however, I think I've come to understand why people like her. Jade's childhood was so awful that, on paper, it looks concocted: dad commits suicide, she is left to care for her junkie mum. That she still does says a lot about her good nature. She's not an obnoxious 'celebrity' like Jordan. What she lacks in talent she makes up for in enthusiasm. She knows she's stupid and capitalises on it.

It's not like she's alone in looking for attention. We live in the 'Me, Me, Me!' age where, thanks to YouTube, Twitter and Facebook, we can all be reality stars online, offering our lives up for inspection. Jade is the first-born child of this age and now she's about to die. For many people, it's like someone they know is passing away.

Last week, Irish Mail columnist Fiona Looney said Jade should spend her final days with her kids instead of the cameras. She should have "a shred of dignity". To Jade, that's probably the equivalent of being told to slink off out of sight and die. The way old cats do.

Who has the right to tell someone how to die? How can you impose your homespun morality on someone in this situation? Fame defines Jade and if she wants to fade out in public, let her. If you don't want to watch, turn the page or change channel.

We don't do reality TV in Ireland the way they do it in Britain. The closest we've come to Big Brother was Celebrity Farm, where nobody did a Rebecca Loos on the livestock. (Google it.) We do 'nice' reality TV, like the moving Teens in the Wild. Some journalists feel this justifies looking down on commoner Jade.

What a shower of hypocrites we are. When the late Observer journalist John Diamond chronicled his hopeless battle with cancer in his column, he won universal praise. So too did our own, brave – and still very much alive – writer Ferdia MacAnna.

When novelist Terry Pratchett revealed his descent into Alzheimer's 'unreality' on TV, we marvelled at his courage. Now Jade is doing it, it's "distasteful". A vulgar woman is controlling the story of her death and it's "not on".

That story will run long after she dies, with the focus shifting to her family. Smear test awareness will increase, papers will sell, her family will earn money and Jade's last wishes will be fulfilled. As a cynic, I don't have a problem with that.

Where Big Brother merely amplifies the nastier side of human nature, Jade's Truman Show is achieving something. Unlike Carrey's character, however, Jade doesn't want to leave the set. Reality TV is her surrogate parent.

Forget the trite moralising: this is just very, very sad. Let her die in peace.

dkenny@tribune.ie