Where we are?

OK, confession time. When the news of former perpetrator of crimes against humanity in the form of music Stephen Gately’s death broke, I heard the jokes and I laughed at the jokes and I forwarded some of those jokes (to the point that I have no credit on my mobile). It’s what human beings do in the face of tragedy, we deal with it, often with humour.

Then Jan Moir’s column happened. This odious ratbag writes for the Daily Mail, aka Razzle for fascists. The column, which was published before the funeral (I suppose the Mail has to be current and topical once in a while, even if its opinions aren’t), is a tragic mix of lies, predjudice, conjecture and (did I mention this?) lies.

I refuse to link to it, but you can get to it via Charlie Brooker’s excellent reponse in the Guardian. The sad thing is that perhaps more people in this country agree with Moir, rather  than Brooker. On the plus side, most of them are hanging on grimly against the inevitable. Here’s hoping for a cold snap this winter, eh? Especially at Moir’s house.

The jokes were funny, it has to be said. They were just jokes, though! Sadly, it seems that it’ll be the jokes that’ll be frowned upon, rather than the nasty, bitter opinions of the Jan Moirs of this world. More’s the pity.

Here’s Brooker’s archive.

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