I find it increasingly difficult to mourn the ever-increasing list of celebrities who die by their own hand, be it illegal or prescription drugs, weird sex games or alcohol poisoning. From Michael Hutchence to Michael Jackson, Amy Winehouse to Whitney Houston, I find it all a bit churlish.  Any life is precious but lives filled with creativity, wealth and fame others can only dream of seem all the more worth cherishing by those who have them; these celebrities should be humbled by the opportunities they’ve enjoyed in their lives and do all they can to preserve them.  Instead they degrade themselves, their fame and their fans with cheap kicks until their abused bodies can take no more.

     If, as is mooted, they cannot handle the pressures of fame and seek to insulate themselves from real life and real feelings the answer is simple – don’t be famous.  Step back.  Hang up the mic.  Take your money, buy a hut by the sea and enjoy what your fame bought you, in peace.

    This may sound harsh but no harder than a mortuary slab and a Best Of album.