| September | 24 |
| 2003 |
One mustn't speak ill of the dead, I know. But really!
Simon Jenkins, of whom it is perfectly right to speak ill, has this to say about Hugo Young:
Young’s writing steered clear of sanctimony
Eh? If I was allowed only one word to describe Young's pieces - especially in the last couple of years - it would be sanctimonious. If allowed three, one might add to that pompous and patronising.
Still, Simey baby, it takes one not to know one, I guess.

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It reminds me of all the people praising Brian Redhead after his death for "puncturing pomposity". I've never encountered anyone more pompous than he sounded whenever his impartiality was questioned (such as when a Conservative minister implied that "we all knew how he voted").
Daniel Johnson in the Telegraph:
"but he was wholly lacking in pomposity."
Why is it that newspapers beleive that when a journalist dies it is a national rather than a personal tragedy? It would be interesting to compare the acres of space given to dead hacks with the stray 1 paragraph stories when Nobel Prize winners die.
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