We are a great nation for celebrating life. Where other nationalities keep things sombre around the time of someone’s death, we tend throw a party. We drink until the wee hours and often lose a week, excusably, in memoriam. While others flagellate and wail for lost loves, we link arms and sing for the good times we shared with them.

But the party that some corners of the media have thrown in recent days is something more sinister, celebrating as it did the death of a young model as some of the juiciest column-fodder that Ireland has seen in years. It’s more like that type of wake that is ruined by relatives bickering over the will, or which turns to spiteful jibes when everyone’s had too much to drink. The sad tale of Katy French was held up as a cautionary tale in one corner, and put up on a pedestal in the other, leading to fights over who was right. The rare few managed to toe the line of factual reference, without deigning to offer an opinion. [Read more →]