This week, Lost in Showbiz arrives bearing a confession. It doesn't want to distress those of you who have understandably come to rely on this column as a dependable source of relentless positivity, proof that – in one tiny corner of the media at least – a refreshingly uncynical worldview still very much holds sway. But, in the interests of full disclosure, it has to tell you: there are moments when it finds itself looking at the celebrity world with something of a jaded eye. Friends, it can tell you from bitter experience that there are only so many detailed examinations of the fractured relationship between Katie Price and the perfidious Keiran that a body can read; only so many interviews where Sinitta is pressed for her thoughts on the important issues of the day; only so many columns in which former Big Brother contestant Chantelle Houghton offers thrilling dispatches from her glamorous life (this week, a pigeon flew inside her mother's house, which was odd because a sparrow did the same thing 15 years ago) before a certain existential ennui grips you by the throat, wrestles you to the ground and starts repeatedly stamping on your face.

And then, there are moments when Lost In Showbiz finds itself rejuvenated, boggling afresh at the celebrity world. It's often Kanye West who lifts its spirits. Who could honestly say their hearts didn't soar at his recent description of celebrities as "a minority" subject to "discrimination" and "inequality"? Furthermore who could fail to agree? Lost In Showbiz expects the Rohingya Muslims of Burma – banned by law from having more than two children, subject to wave after wave of unimaginable violence, including an incident 18 months ago in Arakan State when 28 children were hacked to death in a day – are all sat around, looking at those photos of your wife employing two people specifically to smear sand on her buttocks during a photoshoot, and just weeping for her plight.

But not even Kanye can make Lost In Showbiz boggle quite like the perennially gripping topic of what the celebrities spend their money on. It's arguably the most pressing problem facing this oppressed minority today: on what area of your life should you lavish at least some of your untold fortune? You could spend it on essentials for the home, like the enchanting Chris Brown. His new mansion in San Fernando apparently features not merely six bedrooms and a tennis court, but "a commercial ice-cream bar". Lost in Showbiz has seen a photo of this and it basically looks like someone's stuck a Baskin Robbins franchise in the middle of his house – an original, and doubtless influential, idea. Can you honestly say you've never looked at your home and thought: it's OK, but what this place really needs to finish it off is the addition of some kind of fast-food outlet – I know, I'll get a fully functioning branch of Upper Crust installed next to the downstairs lavatory.

Or you could spend your money on nourishing your spirit, in the manner of socialite Tamara Beckwith, who mentioned in passing during a recent interview that she employs a "spiritual nutritionist". Lost in Showbiz admits that this was not an area of science that it was formerly aware of, a situation it's been swift to rectify. Happily, it can report back to you that spiritual nutrition seems to take two forms. The first, as practised by something called the Centre of Spiritual Nutrition, doesn't actually involve food, but enabling you to "live your life with true purpose and joy" and identifying your Key of Abundance by divining wisdom from The Ancient Book of Life, which turns out to mean a set of playing cards, for $150 a pop. The second seems to involve diets that are planned according to the cosmic energy level emitted by food and water: not just any water, but water specially energised by the process developed by a man called Masaru Emoto, who believes you can change its molecular structure by taping positive words – including "thank you!" or "let's do it!" – to the container its held in before drinking it. Lost In Showbiz isn't sure which of those ideas it would deem more worthy of lavishing large sums of its money on: they seem so identical in their potency and neccessity, it suspects it would plump for both.

A commercial ice-cream bar in your home, the multifarious aspects of spiritual nutrition: Lost in Showbiz is impressed, but it freely admits that, when looking to solve the conundrum of how a celebrity should usefully spend their money, there is only one true master. It directs your gaze towards Mariah Carey, who was this week reported to be sending her seven dogs – they're respectively called Jill E Beans, the Good Reverend Pow Jackson, Cha Cha, Pippity Jackson, Jackie Lambchops, JJ, Squeak E Beans and Mutley P Gore Jackson III – to a kennel. Not just any kennel: a kennel that offers dogs walks on leads designed by Bottega Veneta, surfing lessons and one-to-one psychiatry sessions with a self-styled "dog listener".

Undaunted by the fact that she lives in America and said kennel is in a village in north Somerset, Carey has apparently chartered a private jet at the cost of $100,000 to fly Jackie Lambchops et al to the UK. A dog owner itself, Lost in Showbiz finds itself brushing aside the nagging thought that its own faithful hound's notion of impossible luxury would revolve less around Bottega Veneta leads and psychiatry sessions than a limitless supply of other animals' excrement to roll in and/or eat. Instead, it considers the lot in life of the Good Reverend Pow Jackson and gawps, its faith in the world of celebrity utterly restored. They may be a minority suffering discrimination and inequality, but by God, they struggle on and struggle on in style: there's a lesson there for us all.