Yes, like this one:

When something has crossed the parody horizon, it becomes impossible to parody (that, of course, is a common idiom) for the simple reason that

any parody would be indistinguishable from the original.Similar to \”jumping the shark\” perhaps.

\”Polly has crossed the parody horizon\”….yes, works for me.

If “parody horizon” is like an “event horizon” in physics (something to do with black holes), then presumably there is also such a concept as “parody singularity”, which would be the technical term for something which is identical to a parody of itself.

And which is, presumably, zero-dimensional and impossible to escape.

You are not alone in noticing that about Maria , she is now a “National Treasure ” which means much the same thing

“something which is identical to a parody of itself”

So, Polly then?

The adverts that BP has used for the lasr few years are commonly referred to as “Beyond Parody”.

One one considers an iterative series, there is a term in mathematics that is appropriate: the radius of convergence. This is the idea that, given a sequence of iterates, if the initial value is not too far away from a point (the radius) then it will converge to that point. If one considered Polly’s articles in this sense, little sense could be derived. We had the unlikely (and somewhat gorge-raising) imagery of strapping G. Brown Esq. sweeping in like a Caledonian warrior and giving poor maidenly Pol the rogering of her life (call this the Braveheart phase). Then we had the second act: the disillusionment as la Toynbee realises she’s married a fuckwit (the Edward Albee/Ken Loach phase). Now we have the third act: Polly needs a new Lothario to shiver her gusset. Who will it be? Andy Burnham? John Cruddas? Hugo Chávez? Some utter NuLabour spastic you couldn’t pick out of a police line-up with three tries? This is the Judd Apatow gross-out comedy-of-errors phase (except without the feel-good ending). In essence, Polly is a strange attractor (at which point, further elucidation would be superfluous).

There might be a central region of stupidity where common sense goes to zero and its inverse, Toynbeeist lunacy, goes to infinity but thus far the crafty old bird has charted a course that swoops around it without ever actually crash-landing. If Stuntman Dave truly puts Gordon’s Myrmidons to the sword then we may see a blow-up of cosmic proportions. I’ll buy the popcorn.

Arrgh:

Whenone…Tim, buy a preview button.