TEENAGER Christina Edkins never had the opportunity to become a celebrity, but perhaps she never yearned for the fame status so many of her age group crave.
She did,however, deserve better media coverage than she was given before being torn so cruelly from the bosom of her family by one savage blow from a man she never knew.
We shall never know just what the young lady wanted of her young life, but what we do know is that the great British press saw greater mileage in the lives and the hysteria of Chris Huhne and his vindicative ex wife Vicky Pryce, as wave after wave of nonsense swept across our TV screens.
The news that a couple, albeit a high profile couple, who were at each others throats over who was driving their car at the time it was picked up on speed cameras, seemed more newsworthy than an innocent young lady losing her life to a deranged 22 year old says it all about the society we exist in.
As I watched the early news bulletins come in, it was clear that it would have taken a nuclear war to have dislodged the former HM Government minister’s story from the number one slot.
So why should I get so upset about the slaughter of young girl not being the lead news item on any night of the week?
Quite simply because it would seem that murder on our streets is now regarded as scarcely worthy of a high rating on our bulletins. Not true of course, at least we can only hope so. We do, nevertheless, have problems with the rich and famous, and any mischiefs they get up to.
Mind you, what exactly did we see in the lives of the Huhne and Pryce to excite us so?
Did we see something of ourselves? Surely not, for if that’s the case we really do have a problem.
If my wife and I have a spat - not unheard of - we fester for a while, but generally call it a day very quickly, rather than plot some fearful act of vengeance.
Well, that has been the pattern to date, and one that will continue, unless I have seriously misjudged my wife of, dare I whisper it, 45 years.
Perhaps the fact that she does not drive makes me a little more smug than is probably decent.
The fact that we appear to love our celebrities to have clay feet is significant, not least our sports stars.
The perfect example was at Old Trafford last week when no less than Sir Alex Ferguson toppled from his pedestal with a resounding crash.
Knowing how to lose graciously has never been the former Aberdeen manager’s forte, but he took his petulance to a new level, refusing to appear at the press conference which always follows such events.
I suppose old age comes to us all, bringing with it in Sir Alex’s case an increase in his already irrational behaviour.
Seeing a 71 year old pushing his way to the touch line to remonstrate was quite unedifying, and not what we expect of our knights of the realm.
So let us spare a thought for Ms Edkins, and weep for her innocence, instead of obsessing ourselves with the trivia threatening to take over lives.