File under: Life, Media & Advertising

Cheerio, croc-botherer

OK. While acknowledging that it’s sad when someone dies

a) before their time and
b) in tragic or unfortunate circumstances

I’m finding it really difficult to relate the reaction to the untimely death of Steve Irwin to the TV personality who was (as far as I was aware) most famous for provoking dangerous animals in order to get a rise out of them on camera.

“This komodo dragon [prod] looks like he’s sleeping [poke] but lurking just underneath the passive surface [poke-poke] is a wild and vicious beast [prod, poke, nudge with boot] ready to lash out [poke, etc] at any moment [big lizard lunges and snaps jaws in direction of man in khaki shorts] CRIKEY! DIDYA SEE THAT? HE COULDA HAD MY LEG ORF!”

It seems, however, that his death is causing a massive public outpouring of grief, as people (viewers, fans and others with a terrible grasp of spelling and grammar, which I’m sure doesn’t say anything at all about his populist appeal) flock to praise him for his environmental concern, bravery and heroic personality. Moreover, they seem surprised - shocked, even - that he died in such a manner, to which I can only boggle: surely it was only a matter of time? If you live by the sword, and all that…

Not being a fan or much aware of his work, I can’t comment, but I can say that I honestly felt more touched by grief when Charlotte Colman died - and even that was fleeting. I’m not hard-hearted, I think; I just don’t get the personal level people seem to be feeling this on.

I think perhaps the problem is that I don’t watch much TV, and when I do it’s not the sort of entertainment-for-the-masses which primetime consists of. Added to that, I really don’t have much mental space devoted to the cult of personality, so I’m trying to find a personal equivalent scenario that will help me to understand why people seem to be reacting like this.

Would this have been like David Bellamy dying when I was 9? Attacked by a giant grub, perhaps, during one of his characteristic forays through the undergrowth? I don’t know. John Noakes, tumbling from Nelson’s Column? Tony Hart, tripping on his studio and nicking a major artery with a particularly badly-positioned pallette knife? Perhaps.

Sorry, I don’t mean this to come across as heartless. I’m honestly a bit bemused by the reaction, is all.

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