Sunday 11 July 2010

THE END OF THE AFFAIR

I'm not much of a praying man. But I did find myself praying for someone this week - a certain Mr. Raoul Moat. Like most of the nation, I followed his man hunt with some interest, and a childish glee that Mr. Plod was being evaded for so long. At the end, he was cornered on the banks of the river Coquet, having popped up undetected at the very epicentre of Mr. Plod's search area. It was at the point of the stand off that I left the story and headed for bed, and my equally child like act of prayer - God bless Mummy; God bless Daddy; God bless the poor people hurt by that man Mr. Moat; and God bless poor Mr. Moat. That, and the more worldly mental game of spin the bottle that was going on in my head. The options were shoot and be shot, surrender and be imprisoned, top yourself.
At the end, the pathetic spectacle revealed itself as what it truly was - the pained cry of a wounded animal. Eyewitnesses recount that, at the end, Raoul Moat cried out "nobody cares for me".
Sad.
And very sad that the last, infamous acts of his life were based on this dreadful, perhaps well founded, perhaps misplaced conviction.

2 comments:

  1. The media loves a chase, a pantomime bad-guy, good winning over evil, violence/bloodlust, tales of infidelity.... This story had them all. But when you strip back the media glitz and glamour, it is a sorry story of human nature.

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  2. Agreed, Rich. And a sad one at that. I think the British public are sensible enough to see both sides, and to see the tragic nature of the story from both sides too. Hence David Cameron's injunction that we should feel no sympathy for Moat will be widely ignored.

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