This week, Lost in Showbiz found itself glumly considering the future of journalism. The troubling questions mounted up. How long can newspapers last? How long until those of us still working on Grub Street are required to seek alternative employ?

And then, Lost in Showbiz brightened, thinking of the boundless world of employment opportunities within what you might call the celebrity service sector. Not just jobs: jobs open to all, regardless of previous experience. Admittedly, many of them seem to be predicated on psychic abilities, which Lost in Showbiz cannot, as yet, claim to possess. It looks at the career of self-styled Intuitive Heart Healer, Awakened Warrior and Enlightened Master, Blaire Allison, recently employed by Gwyneth Paltrow to fix her marriage to Chris Martin, presumably using the techniques detailed on her website: "Blaire communicates with animals, angels, fairies, archangels, ascended masters, guides, star beings and those who have crossed over."

And LiS thought to itself: I can't communicate with fairies or archangels – if I set myself up in a business like that, I would be nothing but a charlatan, denuding the famous of their cash under ridiculous false pretences.

But then, the spirit world is a mysterious place, and psychic powers are not revealed until later in life. Take the case of celebrity pet medium Melissa Bacelar, a former adult model and B-movie actress who has recently been helping Miley Cyrus to "achieve closure" following the death of her dog Floyd. "I connect with the dog telepathically," she says. "Some of them give me actual words, but most of the time I'll get images and feelings, which I then pass on to the owner."

How did Melissa come to be in contact with the animal spirit world? According to her website, she was booked to appear on a radio show as an actor, and was wrongly announced by the presenter as a pet psychic. "She explained to the host that she was not a psychic but the host didn't hear her and immediately had the first caller start asking questions." At which point she miraculously discovered that she did have psychic abilities after all. The Guy Goma of the canine afterlife. What an example to us all! Indeed, the more it reads about the sums involved, the more Lost in Showbiz feels its own psychic abilities beginning to pick up.

And then there are the jobs that appear to require special skills and years of training, yet, in the world of celebrity, seem noticeably more open to all. For example: hairdressing. Lost in Showbiz had previously assumed that getting involved in celebrity hairdressing would require years of training and apprenticeships. Then it saw the photo of Tamara Ecclestone apparently paying £60 for her daughter to have her hair cut: it is perhaps worth noting at this point that Ecclestone's daughter is four months old. At that point, the proverbial lightbulb came on over Lost in Showbiz's head: celebrity baby hair stylist! For one thing: how hard can it be? Your average four-month-old has hair like Ben Kingsley: they can hardly ask you for a multi-textured perm. And for another, Lost in Showbiz feels it has relevant skills: on occasion it has trimmed its youngest daughter's fringe and the results suggest that its dexterity with the scissors can enable any child to get that "pop star look". Admittedly, the pop star in question is Dave Hill from Slade circa 1973, but let's keep that to ourselves.

Besides, there are other openings out there. Lost in Showbiz had always believed that entrance into the world of high-end interior design would be barred to anyone not laden with suitable qualifications: perhaps a high-quality first degree in furniture or textiles followed by the Royal College of Art's interior design MA. Clearly, these global superstars and oligarchs aren't going to let any old pillock start slopping the Farrow & Ball and assembling the Billy bookcases in their multi-million-pound homes. And then, it came across the story of Jimmy Choo co-founder Tamara Mellon's lawsuit against Martyn Lawrence Bullard.

Bullard is an LA-based interior designer whose website is flatly amazing, not merely because it flags up an impressive A-list clientele – Tommy Hilfiger, Cher, Sharon Osbourne – but also because there's a bit on it where he tries to flog you a cushion for $390 and a candlestick for $599: the latter is in brass, presumably to match his cojones. But Mellon's lawsuit alleges that Bullard charged her $2m for an interior design job that, when completed, involved bookshelves that were falling apart, wallpaper that was peeling off, a chandelier hanging "like a death trap" and a wall speaker that had been blithely painted over.

Lost in Showbiz's ears pricked up once more: was that the sound of opportunity knocking? It never saw itself as much of a handyman, but it would appear that Lost in Showbiz can decorate and assemble furniture to the standard of one of Hollywood Reporter's Top 25 Designers. If the celebrities are paying ££££s for shelves that fall down, then Lost in Showbiz has quite the portfolio to show them, as its wife will glumly confirm. Indeed, why settle for shelves that fall down? You don't want to be like everyone else, and Mellon's already got those. Lost in Showbiz can help you go one stage further: it once assembled an Ikea child's bunk bed that fell down with a child in it.

Readers, it's been nice knowing you, but Hollywood calls: Lost in Showbiz is off to LAX armed with its allen key and a suitcase full of Dulux colour swatches it nicked from B&Q. See you in Elle Decor's A-list!