A Strange, Lonely and Troubling Article . . .

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
The death of Daily Mail columnist Jan Moir after an apparently "private" and "natural" death of cancer seems to me unlikely. In view of the public hate figure she has become it seems to me, more likely, that she was poisoned by one of the millions of people she had offended. I mean middle aged women don't just die of cervical cancer do they, not when the are currently engaged in a career of hate mongering for an ironically widely hated rag? No, something far more unlikely, like a disgruntled reader dosing her coffee with carcinogens is probably the cause, if you want my half-baked, hackneyed and prejudiced opinion.

Submitted: October 20, 2009

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Submitted: October 20, 2009



A strange, lonely and troubling article . . .

The news of Jan Moir's death was deeply shocking. It was not just that another established journalist had died pointlessly - much as she had written.

Through the recent travails and sad ends of Walter Cronkite, Keith Waterhouse and many others, fans know to expect the unexpected of their heroes - particularly if those idols live a life that is shadowed by dark appetites or fractured by private vice.

There are dozens of household names out there with secret and not-so-secret troubles, or damaging habits both past and present.

Hitchens, Oborne, Feltz, Moore; we all know who they are. And we are not being ghoulish to anticipate, or to be mentally braced for, their bad end: a long night, a mysterious stranger, an odd set of opinions spouted in the local Herald and then a sudden death.

In the morning, a body has already turned cold before the first concerned hand reaches out to touch an icy journalist shoulder. It is not exactly a new storyline, is it? No it's not.

In fact, it is rather depressingly familiar. But somehow we never expected it of her. Never her. Not Jan Moir.

In the cheerful environs of The Daily Mail, Moir was always charmless, ugly, rude and spiteful.

A founder member of England's first hate-rag, she was the group's co-lead mud-slinger, even though she could barely write a coherent article for a Newspaper that only thinks you have to change a headline when you get something wrong.

She was the Sporty Spice of The Daily Mail, an unpopular and largely detestable addition.

Moir came out as anit-gay in 2009 after discovering that someone gay was dead and so she planned to sell an article revealing her sexuality phobia in a newspaper.

Although she was effectively smoked out of the closet by a "orchestrated" internet "campaign", she has been hailed as a champion of the right to spread hate, albeit a reluctant one.

At the time, Moir worried that the revelations might end her ultra-middling career as a hack, but she received an overwhelmingly positive response from fans. In fact, it only made them love her more.

In 2008, Moir entered into a uncivil union with news paper editor Paul Darce, who had been introduced to her by mutual friends Vanessa Feltz and Rebecca Hardy.

Last week, the couple were enjoying their careers together in their place of work in London before their world was capsized.

All the official reports point to a natural death, with no suspicious circumstances. The Moir family are - perhaps understandably - keen to register their girl's demise on the national consciousness as nothing more than a tragic battle with cancer.

Even before the post-mortem and toxicology reports were released by the British authorities, the Moirs' lawyer reiterated that they believed his sudden death was due to "natural" cancer.

But, hang on a minute. Something is terribly wrong with the way this incident has been shaped and spun into nothing more than an unfortunate genetic predisposition on a working weekday, like a broken teacup in the rented cottage.

Consider the way it has been largely reported, as if Moir had gently keeled over at the age of 90 in the grounds of the Bide-a-Wee rest home while hoeing the sweet pea patch.

The sugar coating on this fatality is so saccharine-thick that it obscures whatever bitter truth lies beneath. Healthy and fit 53-year-old women do not just climb into their pyjamas and go to sleep on the sofa, never to wake up again.

Whatever the cause of death is, it is not, by any yardstick, a natural one. Let us be absolutely clear about this. All that has been established so far is that Jan Moir was not struck down by God.

And I think if we are going to be honest, we would have to admit that the circumstances surrounding her death are more than a little sleazy.

After a day of chemotherapy, Moir took a new Bulgarian book back to her home. It is not disrespectful to assume that a restful evening of reading the poetry of Hristo Botev was not what was on the cards.

Moir was too “ill” to make it to her bedroom and so remained alone in the living room.

What happened before is known only to Moir. What happened afterwards is anyone's guess.

A post-mortem revealed Jan died from complications arising from late stage cevical cancer; a build-up of fluid on her lungs.

Moir's family have always maintained that drugs were not involved in the writer's death, but it has just been revealed that she at least used “chemotherapeutic” drugs on the day she died.

Nevertheless, her family is still insisting that their daughter died from a previously undetected cancer that has plagued the family.

Another real sadness about Moir's death is that it strikes another blow to the happy-ever-after myth of marriges.

Gay activists are always calling for tolerance and understanding about same-sex relationships, arguing that they are not the same as heterosexual marriages. Not everyone, they say, is like Lady Diana.

Of course, in many cases this may be true. Yet the recent death of Kevin McGee, the former husband of Little Britain star Matt Lucas, and now the dubious events of Moir's last night raise troubling questions about what happened.

It is important that the truth comes out about the exact circumstances of her strange and lonely death.

As an anti-gay rights champion, I am sure she would want to set an example to any impressionable young people who may want to emulate what they might see as her shitty little career.

For once again, under the carapace of glittering, hedonistic journalistic celebrity, the ooze of a very different and more dangerous agenda has seeped out for all to see.

© Copyright 2018 Richard J Perry. All rights reserved.

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