I am Responsible for the Death of Amy Winehouse

Even though I’d want my kids to think it was the drugs that killed Amy Winehouse – and even though I’m sure they played a big part in her demise – I couldn’t in good conscience feel that I, and most of you out there, shouldn’t shoulder some of the blame as well.

It’s kind of like when Princess Diana died. Those that ‘loved’ her so much – and showed that ‘love’ by devouring all news and gossip about her life – were quick to blame the paparazzi, but conveniently let themselves off the hook.

Kind of like throwing a bucket of petrol on an open flame and then blaming the flame.

Sure, there were some who recognised the public’s responsibility in Diana’s death, and scowled at the readers of tabloid trash, but that realisation was quickly forgotten as we moved on to the next celeb to stalk.

Now take Amy Winehouse. The latest member of the morbid ’27 Club’ and a girl who, in the public’s eyes, could do little right. She was someone who shot to mega-stardom relatively quickly and frequently got shitfaced.

Because of her party lifestyle we were never short of photos and stories about her exploits. With seldom a good word to read about, and even though I’m sure a lot of celebs try to ignore all the shit being spread about them, it’s got to be hard to avoid it all of the time.

Now think of how horrible it feels to hear someone running you down – it doesn’t even have to be someone you know – and imagine yourself, after a bad day that’s left you feeling worthless, just wanting to get away from it all.

You might go to the movies to escape for an hour and a half. You might phone a friend and get together for a drink.

Or, if you have pretty much unlimited financial resources, you might decide, sod it, and go on a month-long drug and booze binge.

Or imagine fucking up – having an argument with your wife or being caught driving drunk (a common pastime in good ol’ SA) – and strangers thinking it was their ‘right’ to be told about it.

It would probably push you over the edge.

The tragedy that is the Amy Winehouse story is a case of an addictive personality placed under extreme stress and handed enough money to ruin themselves.

The personality is hereditary. The money earned. But the stress is our fault.

The most shameful thing that will happen in the coming week is how all the tabloids that wrote so much venomous vitriol about Ms Winehouse will be telling us how wonderful she was and how much we’ll all miss her.

And those of us who so ferociously gorged on the gossip will wipe our dripping chins and say, yes, we really loved her, what a tragedy.

I believe in free speech, but it is often shameful what we do with that freedom.