Only The Good Die Young

You 've seen the articles on the news or in the local paper. A tragic accident involving a much loved friend, the sudden death of a work colleague who was hard working and widely respected by his peers, the demise of a local man who did loads of work for charity.

It seems that everyone who dies was ultimately a high achiever or a generally nice person for one reason or another. Loved by friends and family, a good student, captain of the football team, adopted an orphan, built a hospital, swam the channel, saved Lois Lane from an earthquake - you get the picture.

Once, just once, I'd like to see an article in the Watford Observer about some guy popping his clogs and no-one giving a toss. 'John Smith died today in a bizarre wallpapering accident at his home in West Watford. An ambulance crew tried to revive him, but the sheer volume of wallpaper paste clogging his airway proved too repulsive. "In any case,"one paramedic said, "I didn't make that much of an effort as he was well known for being a cantankerous bastard who everyone despised, so I'm glad to see the back of him".

Mr Smith's wife added that he "....never did a day's work in his whole life, couldn't give a monkeys about anyone but himself, and soiled himself regularly. I hope he rots in hell."

Neighbours refused to comment. Except one, who shouted obscenities at his corpse from a first floor window.'

But it never happens like that does it? Do we have that much respect for the dead that we are incapable of saying anything bad about them, despite being complete bastards all their lives, or do bad people never die?

The weird thing is, despite being a complete cynic, I have personally never known anyone to die who I didn't actually like or who hadn't achieved something remarkable with their life, and I certainly don't know anyone I would wish death upon. Either I'm seeing that little bit of good in everyone, or I'm reading the wrong papers.