Until death us do part. Or not.
Never been happy about the digitised celebration of grief, about the virtual disappearance of No Comment, from those assaulted by Life’s vicissitudes, and of their insistence upon as wide and indifferent an audience as possible. This bloke apparently took his troubles into cyberspace, into Twitter and Facebook, where, regrettably, he was joined by his family members.
That his shooting by Raoul Moat was a dreadful event for him is not in dispute, but taking it to the depersonalised chatworld for remedy was a fool’s errand, generating an empty, worthless and destructive celebrity.
If he’d had any proper friends they would have said, knuckle down, lad, we’ll help you, and maybe, down the line, you might meet someone genuine, someone who believes that ...in sickness and in health stuff. As it is, the global airing of every setback can only amplify and enlarge them; there-there, son, they might have said, we’ll help you, don’t you fret, there-there. And if there was not this insane cyber chit-chat, maybe he would have made some flesh and blood friends, Isn’t it only for the likes of Steven Fry, Twitter, only for the incurably self-adoring?