RIP Diogo Jota.
Let’s hope that his loved ones can now process this loss and rebuild their lives the best they can.
What a shame that performative mourning didn’t roll over and go woof like the Lambo. It’s always a goulish charade, but the scum and social media hacks just can’t help themselves.
The storm of online tributes, the vigils, and the black armbands at random and unrelated events were lamentably as predictable as the calls for the shirt number to be retired.
Grief signalling is another but even more grossly tasteless strain of virtue signalling. Centre stage is not the stiff, but the emotion of the speaker. It’s all about how the death makes the sobbing onlookers feel, and we are all being invited to judge them on the basis of whatever sentiment is spooged out from a succession of performative circle jerks.
If the commentariat needs to express genuine sorrow, they can send cards and flowers to the family.
But to these clowns, the family is collateral damage for the personal projects of their self-promoting, social remedial voyeurism. They don’t care a jot about any one other than themselves.
The next crass statement will likely be a minute’s applause in the twentieth minute of the Community Shield match, followed by the renaming of the Liverpool player of the season award.
It’s what they’ll tell us he would have wanted.
Max Frances 