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Friday 9th July 2010

I was transfixed for most of the day by the coverage of the Raoul Moat saga on the news. Whether it was appropriate for all these journalists to be hanging around the village of Rothbury hoping for some massive incident is certainly one question, but I was still watching and being entertained, partly by the desperate attempts to fill time when nothing much was happening. Clearly the channels had invested so much in getting all the crews up there that they had to keep reporting the nothing, even if something more exciting was happening elsewhere in the world. A horrible part of me was fantasising about the gunman appearing out of nowhere and taking out these ambulance chasers. Especially Kay Burley. Then all the second string presenters would have to show up and report on the deaths of the people who had until now kept them from the top spot, unable to hide their glee. And also have to be inappropriately intrusive with the relatives and colleagues of the people who had spent their lives being inappropriately intrusive to others.
Moat had done an amazing job of evading capture and though he is clearly a horrible man and a murderer that same fantasising part of my brain was hoping he would continue to evade capture. The police proudly revealed they had found his three mobile phones, which reminded me of the bit in Life of Brian where the Romans are searching for Brian and proudly reveal that they have found a spoon, even though they have missed Brian uselessly hiding in the room. As it turned out that wasn't too bad a comparison as it seems Moat had been under their noses all week.
This media circus turned into another Twitter happening in the evening as hundreds of people commented on the coverage once Moat was finally cornered. It was grim comedy at the times, as a man's life hung in the balance, making us parasites on the back of the media parasites. But there were observations to be made and gags to be cracked and oddness of all kinds occurring. Did Gazza really turn up with a kebab and a fishing rod or was this just one more of the jokes?
Moat was on a riverbank surrounded by police with his own shotgun pointed at his head, not wanting to go back to prison and I realised that this was Big Vern from Viz made flesh. Where do those boys get their crazy ideas? By looking out of the window clearly. Jon Sopel on BBC news was doing quite a good Roger Mellie impression, grabbing phones from concerned villagers and putting them on speakerphone.
I quite liked the way everyone was referring to Raoul as Mr Moat, which seemed a bit respectful given his behaviour, but which I suspect was more down to lack of confidence about the pronunciation of his Christian name.
When I went to bed the stand off was still going on and levity was somehow still appropriate. People were tweeting about the attractive policewoman who always seemed to be in shot, whether by the choice of the producers or because she was hoping to get her modelling career on the go. The tiny policewoman with the gun that was bigger then her was also worthy of note.
It all seemed less funny in the morning and I felt some sympathy for this horrible murderer. Strange times.

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