Jane Kelly: The politicisation of grief makes us all alone

As presenter of the BBC’s Any Questions, David Jacobs once worried that women panellists were not always strong enough to deal with tough debate. He’d seen them sometimes close to tears. What would he have made of Jack Monroe, who describes herself on Twitter as, ‘Chronicler of things, mother, queer.’ On Saturday (July 1st) she managed to sob her way through most of the programme, not due to the debate but because the topics raised by the audience in Hungerford filled her with so much emotion.

Asked about the Grenfell fire she was rendered almost inarticulate by grief as if she’d lost a close relative. When the policy of austerity came up she was barely able to speak she was so choked with anguish, but finally managed to describe it as a policy of wilful murder. Finding language so difficult under her tide of emotion she resorted to adjectives such as, ‘crap,’ ‘bugger,’ ‘frigging,’ and ‘bollocks.’ Later, on Twitter she said she was puzzled that such words, ‘still counts as swearing on Radio 4.’

The BBC and those who think they do are a step behind; she has cottoned on that language is now all about feeling and the expression of a public consciousness rather than opinion based on facts. To be seen as genuine speech must come from the street and sound more like a teenage temper tantrum rather than anything thoughtful or nuanced. Grief in particular, with its inherent rage and sense of bewildered injustice, is no longer something private. It’s now a public statement of political intent. Its expression now defines our country.

We seem to have two acceptable types of mourning: ‘Keep Calm & Carry On,’ which although it was used in the war under the emblem of the crown, is now channelled through social media, that virtual infinite public square. It means we’ll cope in our own way with support from our countless virtual friends.

Then there is use of the real agora, home to Argos, Aldi, and most appropriately Clintons, the purveyor of greetings cards who go by the slogan, ‘Life celebrating Life.’ These concrete secular temples are now frequently strewn with sacred offerings of nylon teddies wearing cheerful scarves, fragranced tea lights and balloons, for some emblems of the good life.

Linda Woodhead, professor of the sociology of religion at Lancaster University, spoke on Radio 4 recently about the ‘democratisation of grief.’ She delighted in it and ‘the new place of women and young girls playing a leading role in it.’ She seriously calls them ‘the ritual leaders,’ believing  they are  ‘expressing our values of love, kindness, solidarity, and celebration of diversity, in a very impressive way.’

She applauds this new communal grief enacted in ‘the public space’ as a way of empowering women, the young and minority faiths. Or as she put it, sounding like an educated Max Bygraves; ‘It’s all about heart. There are hearts everywhere, on signs, balloons, there is a lot of creativity there (in), the expression of emotion.’

There has been a profound change in the way we mourn and commemorate. The funeral of the children and adults who died at Aberfan in 1966 took place in a public space, a hillside overlooking the town, but the service was led by Christian ministers from all denominations. It lasted thirteen minutes and was attended by 12,000 mourners. Other services were held in churches and chapels all over Wales.

The service for the Hillsborough victims in 1989 was in a Cathedral. The Catholic church in Liverpool still had influence, but at memorials held every year since in the stadium, that most public space, flowers and scarves are left as offerings by a million people. Princess Diana’s funeral in 1997 marked the apogee of the new mass emotionalism and grief as mass entertainment. The stiff upper lip and British sense of quiet decorum was gone forever. As the editor of the Daily Mail said to me in a lift: ‘I don’t know what’s happened to the country I used to know. ’

The expression of grief is constantly mutating. This populist mourning is no longer just an outburst of national sentimentality, filling the gap left by religion, the public response to sudden death and loss is now an adjunct to interest politics; rocking up to lay your flowers at the sight of a massacre now signals other allegiances.

The BBC describes Jack Monroe as a, ‘journalist and activist.’ Her public tears and those of many gathered around the Grenfell Tower may not have been entirely about personal pain but discontent with the government, the nation state and capitalism.

By the time we get to the memorial service for the victims of the London Bridge atrocity, the politics is plain; there was a bit of the Keep Calm & Carry On, with photos on social media of a lad escaping the attack with his glass of beer intact, but in the non-digital public space of Borough Market, as in Paris, Westminster and Manchester, grief was used to celebrate multiculturalism, if not open borders. It was all about sharing ‘solidarity,’ which is a remarkably insubstantial concept, no one has ever clearly defined. Standing in the dark with candles and banners is supposed to be about standing together, asserting our values  against ‘those who would divide us.’

Yet, as someone said approvingly on Any Questions? on Saturday, in a question about Trump asserting ‘our values,’  ‘Britain has no values of its own any more because so many different cultures live here.’

The church is no longer central to public memorials. It’s left to ‘curate’ the bit of public space left to them. Its job is now to help individuals in the vast crowd who gather to do what they want to do. Faith leaders have become facilitators of emotion, using the event to further a multi-faith ‘agenda.’

In Manchester the memorial service was dominated by Tony Walsh, a popular street poet. He read his poem about Manchester:

We make brilliant bands

We make goals that make souls leap from seats in the stands

And we make things from steel

And we make things from cotton

And we make people laugh, take the mick summat rotten

And we make you at home etc etc

The cotton and the steel are long gone and Manchester is famous for violent crime rather than hospitality, but in this world of greeting card affections reality is out of place. Memorials do not so much commemorate the dead now as praise the living and offer them a fantasy of how life is. This is not about aspiration for a better future, it says the future is now; Manchester is a lovely place, Christians and Muslims in Britain love each other and get along really well.

As Professor Woodhead put it, ‘The people held the grief. People don’t have to ask permission, they are doing it themselves.’ In fact they are doing it under the influence of others. With the church safely dethroned, they are doing it the way Woodhead and others on the liberal Left like very much; celebrating diversity, the new post-Christian religion of Britain.

The Church of England, which is also passionate about diversity, has joined in this public babble, (‘narrative’ in the new language) they have decided to connect with the British public through pink balloons, flowers and condolence card mottos, giving assent to this labile culture of thinking without thought and grieving without feeling.

Rather than going door to door with a tin, any number of causes can now be supported by calls to public emotion through social media and political interest groups prosper in the same way. The righteous are seen grieving and lamenting, those who don’t cry hard enough are regarded with suspicion.

Surprisingly though, without any religious input there are increasing injunctions to pray. After the Grenfell fire no politician could appear on TV or radio without holding up the discussion while he or she claimed to be praying for the victims and their families. After the London Bridge attack one hospital had a notice up about praying for the victims. Usually the only religious notices allowed in NHS buildings indicate the way to the Muslim prayer room. Christian chaplaincies have usually been renamed to disguise their faith origin. One where I used to work is now known as ‘The Sanctuary.’ The name was changed so that it could be used by Muslims.

But this sort of popular praying has nothing to do with going down on your knees and exhorting God or Allah. Dr Bex Lewis, a senior lecturer in marketing at Manchester Metropolitan University, with an interest in how the digital world affects belief, told the BBC recently that some people were disturbed to think the repetition of that word at scenes of public grief might be some kind of order. ‘It cannot be an instruction,’ she said.

She needn’t have worried. Professor Woodhead is certain this no longer means that people believe in God. Its ubiquity is ‘all about inclusivity,’ and that mysterious thing ‘solidarity.’

After all the noisy outpouring and wild signalling of communal fellowship, what happens to the people who are actually getting up each day to face the loss of  daughter, son, father, leg, arm, speech, eye? After the popular catharsis and the celebration of solidarity are they visited by the public mourners with more balloons and bears, consoled by digital friends? Perhaps their church ministers call round, but that is rare these days as there aren’t enough vicars to do such work.

As the Christian idea of the Resurrection and life after death has faded and is no longer taught, genuine grieving must be very hard and lonely these days. It is much more important to be alive and healthy enough to get out into the market place to help ‘curate the space.’ By doing so you are empowered to declare your allegiances whatever they are, express your anger at perceived injustice, and hold onto the idea of Britain as a nation united by its values, even if those values are different for each individual.

If none of that is to your taste, or you feel genuinely incapacitated by grief, better stay in bed, or get on with your work as they did in the old days, well away from the party going on outside. No one knows how to deal with having a miserable face around. In the condolence book in Manchester an eleven-year-old girl wrote: ‘We are together, no one is alone.’

She doesn’t yet know it yet, surrounded by balloons and teddies, but in our bitterly divided society where we no longer even have a common language, her words have never been more untrue.

Jane Kelly

  • Bik Byro

    It is ironic that in a country where the phrase “Keep Calm and Carry On” has never been more popular (it actually was never used much during the second world war) that we are turning into a nation which does precisely the opposite.

    From memory, this “Look at me everyone, I can cry more tears than you” national competition started with the death of Princess Diana and has got worse since.

    • SteadyOn

      Interesting too, that until the early 19th century we were known as a particularly emotional and lachrymose nation.

      • Groan

        Interesting. I’ve worked with a number of Dutch Danish and German colleagues over the years and their perspectives have always stuck with me. Because they’re at such variance to our general self image. As one once said “its like Italy, but with nuclear missiles”

        • SteadyOn

          I do tend to hold to the theory that empires have two stages, the first is vital, and full of animal spirits. The second, the period of codification and preservation warps the virtues of the first. The most clear cut example of that is possibly in our approach to Indian culture and governance in the mid 19th century. I’d rather have lived in Gin lane than late Victorian Britain.

          • a misplaced modifier

            That depends very much on where you stood n the pecking order. of course. For some, Victorian Britain was a paradise — about thirty thousand. For the rest — about thirty million — it was very far from paradisical.

          • SteadyOn

            I’m not sure that the numbers were that different in the 18th century, but at least you could get drunk without some moralising blue stocking having a go at you.

      • therealguyfaux ✓ᵛᵉʳᶦᶠᶦᵉᵈ

        This MAY have had a direct relation to the amount of alcohol being consumed in Georgian times and earlier, with perhaps a Cromwellian interlude.

    • Groan

      Too true. Because of course in the past there wasn’t an alternative to keeping calm and carrying on. The key is probably “‘the new place of women and young girls playing a leading role in it” which is so ironic. For its such a Victorian idea that women create nicer spaces, as places of refuge as their men got on with the reality of building a world. In a sense the only difference now is men don’t get the “refuge” the nice “new place” is women only. And in reality the keep calm and carry on is just for us men. There was a rather symbolic picture of a bunch of “women and young girls” on one of these new rituals walking past some men in high viz. suits mending the drains. What soon gets forgotten is the paramedics, police, firefighters security guys that had to just get on with it in the immediate aftermath in Manchester. The “emoting” is all very natural the problem is when those who should know better feed it.

      • Bik Byro

        I believe it’s no coincidence that the rise of the “public grief competition” has a complete correlation with the rise in the internet and social media.
        Before Facebook and Twitter and Instagram, we went to a memorial service, then went home and got on. Now we can compete for grief on a global basis at the click of a mouse.

    • Colonel Mustard

      The “Keep Calm and Carry On” exhortation was designed to be used in the event of a German invasion.

  • Snoffle Gronch

    It isn’t the “democratisation of grief” but its recreationalisation.

    Bored? At a loose end? At a moment’s notice anyone call throw themselves on the floor, roll around howling in feigned bereavement, and demand sympathy for the anguish they don’t feel about the loss of someone they didn’t know. Most evenings one can turn up with a tea light and an appropriately simpering expression and moan Kum-ba-ya. And it’s an uncomfortable truth that so many of these sensitive souls were the ones that wanted to celebrate when Baroness Thatcher died.

    Putrid stuff – cheap horrible people indulging cheap horrible “feelings”.

  • SteadyOn

    I entirely agree with this. I would say that what happened in Manchester was slightly different to other recent outbursts (with a considerable of bias founded in civic pride). I went up the weekend afterwards and thought I’d drop off some flowers and have a look at the scene. It was quite different to the way it wa presented on TV.

    St Ann’s square was half full, I’d guess around 300 people, with two constantly refreshed queues for those who wanted to place some flowers. The whole thing was silent, people whispered, a very few soundlessly shed one or two tears. It was quite moving, and very dignified.

    Just as an N.B. Manchester isn’t famous for violent crime.

    • Groan

      Thank you Steady on, as a Mancunian I was a bit miffed about that comment. Ours is a physically ugly city but I like to think we adorn it with our cultural and sporting output, and share with other huge conurbations in the UK some tough crime too.

      • SteadyOn

        It was a little unnecessary for a city that largely gets its head down and gets on with it. I’ve never seen a manc feel sorry for himself.

    • John Birch

      We all thought it was .

  • martianonlooker

    Isn’t it strange how the high priestesses of grief, diversity and inclusion seem to proliferate in Britain, no doubt urged on by accolades such as professorships? One could say that underhandedly they seem to want to rot the British soul.
    On the other hand we have the example of a Mr Ibrahim, who set up some sort of charitable Trust in order to channel donations. His motive was that his aunt had died in Grenfell. Until it was found out that he didn’t have an aunt living there. Not to be beaten, he is quoted as saying “well. it was a woman from the same part of the Sudan as myself”.
    So, we have those that seek to rot the British soul and then we have those that like to play the good Samaritan.

    “church ministers call round, but that is rare these days as there aren’t enough vicars”. That did make me chuckle. I would need to get the door widened as rotund doesn’t do justice to our local vicar. She is like Ruth Davidson but with the tank still attached.

    • Colonel Mustard

      I can remember when village vicars (and there was one in every village, like policemen then) called in if you were sick. Ours brought me a book of Greek mythology to read when I was laid up as a child with a fairly common sickness.

      There was more real compassion and less showing off about it then. Now there is more real cruelty and the compassion is pretend and for show.

  • Anais Henrix

    It has bothered me, particular since Lady Di the amount of public grief because on the same day there would have been other tragic deaths which were ignored. If your death is on the news it matters more.

    • John Birch

      Absolutely, and I don’t mean this to be cruel but only one very ill child matters when it is picked up by the news.
      Nobody apart from relatives cares about all the others.
      It’s all about virtue signilling of look at me, I care.

      • Bik Byro

        The news is very fickle. Anyone remember Andrew Gosden ? He is a child who went missing the same year as Madeleine McCann.
        On the day after he went missing there were 6 articles in the Mail Online about Madeleine McCann.

    • a misplaced modifier

      The day on which JFK was killed was, coincidentally, the same day as the deaths of Aldous Huxley and C.S.Lewis, but those two deaths are rarely, if ever, remembered.

      Big fish, little fish …

  • Fubar2

    Ah Jack Monroe… briefly used as a guest blogger by Waitrose and then dropped like a hot brick when she started winding up the store’s core demographic. Anyone who touts themselves with the self-appointed epithet of “Activist” makes me immediately suspicious. Too much time and money on their hands if they can devote all of their energies to whatever their pet project is.

    • Landphil

      She’s probably never heard of the Hungerford shootings.

      • Mr TaxPayer

        Ah the Hungerford shootings. The first of 3 events that took us from law-abiding licenced citizens owning assault rifles to 3 Olympic events being banned in the space of 9 years. People wonder why the NRA won’t budge on gun control.
        In 1989, I could own a 7-shot shotgun, self-loading rifle and 9mm service pistol and .22 target pistol. Because Thames Valley Police’ armed response unit and area coverage was poor, I lost the right to own the first two.
        In 1995, because a Labour MP helped over-rule the local Firearms Licensing Officer, I lost the right to own a service pistol.
        In 1997, because Tony Blair listened to a pressure group and not evidence, we reached the point whereby the mere possession of the equipment to compete in 3 Olympic disciplines will get you a sentence that starts at 5 years and goes upwards form there.
        When London hosted the 2012 Olympics, they Olympic Delivery Authority commenced the destruction of the shooting venue (cost £25m) before the starting gun had been fired for the Mens’ 100m final.

        • Colonel Mustard

          The police and Home Office were conspiring long before that to ensure that in England only the police and criminals are armed, contrary to the unrepealed 1689 Bill of Rights, by conniving, illegally, to reject self-defence as a justified reason for an arms licence.

          They have also acted against the spirit of Peel’s principles of policing which state that “the police are the public and that the public are the police, the police being only members of the public who are paid to give full-time attention to duties which are incumbent on every citizen in the interests of community welfare and existence.” By becoming increasingly armed at the same time as disarming the public the police have elevated themselves into something else entirely – alienating, foreign and statist.

          • martianonlooker

            Pity that your second paragraph isn’t on head D’ ik of the Yard’s office wall. Higher probability of the rainbow flag being on it.

    • marshall

      she has no mind at all, so sobbing and swearing are her only options

    • realfish

      Sainsbury’s not Waitrose.

  • James Chilton

    I may sympathise but I cannot grieve over the deaths of people I do not know.

    • Bik Byro

      I believe that over-emotional grief over someone I do not know is actually very insulting to that person and to the people who were genuinely close to them.

      • James Chilton

        When Steve Jobs died, it was said that people all over world mourned – especially those who owned Apple products!

        Artificial mourning by masses of people after the death of strangers is not only disrespectful to the deceased, but also a bit sinister.

    • Ned Costello

      Exactly, and anyone who says they do is either an imbecile or a liar.

  • Colonel Mustard

    I found the absolute and respectful silence of the English crowds as Churchill’s funeral procession passed to be far more powerfully emotional than the clapping and flower throwing for Diana. That seemed a people transformed and cheapened. But those watching the passing of Churchill were also watching the passing of a nation and I think that in their hearts many of them knew it.

    • John Birch

      Very well put colonel and very accurate.

      • Colonel Mustard

        Thank you.

    • Well said, Colonel. Nothing has ever moved me more than watching the cranes dip at his passage. Not Kennedy’s, not anybody in my family, not even Reagan’s, who did come close. Closet thing lately was the crowd reaction when Maggie exited St. Paul’s

  • John Birch

    The Diana situation facinated me, it really was a turning point between the old sensible world and the modern look at me because I am worth it world.
    As an example, someone I knew who had no reason to be upset that Diana had died as she wasn’t interested in her at all ,went missing a few days after the carnival was underway in London .
    I asked a friend where she was and to my absolute amazement was told she’s taken her children to London to lay flowers.
    I just couldn’t believe it.
    Why ????

  • Fourmyle of Ceres

    just the modern narcissism and emotional top trumps expressed on twatface


  • Fourmyle of Ceres

    why do all these “activists” just lesbians with $hit hair and tats?

    shes got unresolved daddy issues written all over her

  • paul parmenter

    Just out of curiosity, what do all these people who do not believe in God, pray about? Or for? Or to whom?

    • Kay

      I have thought about that. What is the point of all those cheap teddy bears, candles etc. Do they really believe the victims are able to see them. Seems like we have gone back centuries.
      Good article.

      • James Chilton

        I think the teddy bears express a grotesque sentimentality. Though I know it’s easy (for me) to strike a supercilious attitude towards the people who leave them at the scene of disasters etc.

        • Bik Byro

          There are charities which give teddy bears to sick children in hospital who would love and appreciate them. I would encourage everyone to donate or get involved with such a charity.
          Much better use than to leave a teddy at a disaster site where the dead cannot see them and they end up being shoveled up and put in a skip.

          • James Chilton

            Certainly, giving teddy bears to children in hospital is a kind and generous thing to do.

            But why people buy them just to leave at one of those impromptu public shrines that spring up near disaster sites, is difficult to explain. They all end up in a rubbish skip.

          • Mojo

            My sentiments exactly

    • Bik Byro

      From a personal point of view, I’m open to idea of a “higher entity” in the universe but if so, I’m not convinced he is as caring and responsive as many would like : my first visit to a children’s cancer ward was enough to make me sceptical.
      So, the short answer is, I prefer to work at solving life’s problems myself rather than asking an unknown entity to do it. The people who leave hospital cured do so because of good medical treatment given by other humans.
      I don’t leave teddy bears at sites of disaster because I don’t believe that benefits anybody. I would rather give a teddy bear to a sick child in hospital who can actually appreciate it.
      I will take a short time to think about the victim’s lives, I will donate to a charity to help recompense the living, and then I use it as an opportunity to remember to be grateful to be alive and make the most of every day.

      • therealguyfaux ✓ᵛᵉʳᶦᶠᶦᵉᵈ

        I believe it was David Burge, an American Twitter star, who caricatured “politicized” virtue signal-type “concern” with this:

        “I wish to draw attention to the plight of sick children by firing flaming accordions into the Grand Canyon from a trebuchet.”
        “How exactly does this relate to, y’know, sick children?”
        “Why do you hate sick children so? You must want them to DIE, you FASCIST!”

        • Nobody ever gets it more right than Iowahawk does. And that is a prime example.

      • James Chilton

        Paul Johnson, who is a Christian, wrote, “I suspect that the problem of suffering drives more thoughtful people away from religion than any other difficulty.”

        I think he’s right. There is no convincing answer to the question of why an omnipotent and loving God permits the innocent to suffer.

        • Naviro

          “… why an omnipotent and loving God permits the innocent to suffer..”

          Who are these people whom you describe as “innocent”?

          Of what are they innocent?

          On a different note:

          Would you like an all interventionist God who stops a car in its tracks from crashing into a child, who paralyses a man as he lifts a blade above his head to stab his wife and who instanly cures every person of any illness, ailment or disease which befalls them?

          • James Chilton

            In the case of suffering children, I guess you would say they are not innocent, but guilty of original sin.

            On an interventionist God: first, I guess you would say that in the case of human suffering caused by the evil that men do, including war, murder, etc., it’s a consequence of having free will.

            Second, in the case of natural disasters that cause immense suffering – such as earthquakes, tidal waves, etc – I guess you would say it’s the fault of tectonic plates etc., which are part of the natural environment.

            My last guess is that none of these explanations, theological or physical, will reason anyone into believing in an omnipotent and loving God – unless they are disposed to do so on other grounds.

          • Naviro

            I enquired about your viewpoint in sincerity.

            But instead you proceeded to suggest I have an agenda, that I was going to try and “convert” you.

            If you didn’t want to share your perspective then you should have just ignored my question. That would have been fine.

          • James Chilton

            Are you saying that my “guesses” are beneath your notice?

        • Dominic Stockford

          Yes there is. Sin.

          • James Chilton

            I referred to original sin in another comment.

          • Reborn

            Do tell us about the sins committed by children handed over to
            Doctor Mengele for vivisection.
            Then explain the reason that god allowed persons of a certain religious persuasion to hand Mengele & his like passports which enabled them to
            settle in Argentina.
            We’ll come on to the Turkish Muslim genocide of Armenian Christians

    • Sargv

      > what do all these people who do not believe in God, pray about? Or for?

      They pray to their Instagram followers for likes.

    • Jenni Wren

      They don’t, I would hope; offering to pray for someone is just too crass.

  • Nockian

    That’s the modern era of subjective agnosticism where religion can be cherry picked for the bits like praying sans deity. I don’t find it weird, it’s completely in keeping with a society that has long since given up on reality, it is a world where A is A but also not A and maybe a bit of B too.

    It isn’t a longing for a return to religion, it is the actions of those who reject reality and reason entirely and are engaged in the ancient practices of wishing and salt throwing guided by their emotive whims.

  • Mojo

    It is exactly the result of society breaking down. Nothing is held sacred anymore. Home, family, friends, morals. We have lost the compass that glues society together. Too much liberalism breaks down cohesion. Once that goes no one really understands what is important. We are adrift. Those who value family, honesty, democracy, right and wrong are now ridiculed.

    The other night I was so shocked (and at 66yrs old I do not shock easily anymore) with Vincent Cable’s disgraceful rhetoric I decided to play on a loop Holst’s Jupiter from the Planets Suite. I then went back and read the Poem Thaxted by Sir Cecil Rice. How our values have changed. What we have lost and are losing makes my heart break.

  • Sargv

    Fake public mourning on display is a form of a group bonding, a way to show one’s colours. Take note that people mourn not, say, according to the amount of victims, but to the specific incidents.

  • Guardian’s Quitter

    Now that I’m in my fifties, I had assumed there was nothing, that the labour party or the left in general could do to shock me. However, the left’s ‘use’ of the recent tower block fire for political gain has stunned even me.
    They are, frankly, disgusting.

  • The middle class liberal elite couldn’t care less about the Grenfell survivors – they are just using them as a political football to push their socialist SJW nonsense.

  • Fubar2

    I think someone may have mentioned it, but its closer to being “weaponisation” of grief as opposed to politicisation.

    Then again, they’re probably synonymous with each other.

  • Alta Blue

    Good article. Personally, I believe real grief is a private matter, and that privacy must be preserved. I’m disturbed by the vogue of those who seek to hi jack the grief of others they don’t personally know, the epitome of selfishness and conceit in my opinion. There is much to recommend a bit of back bone and the stiff upper lip in and following adversity, unfashionable though such a view is, as it helps get through troubled times in a dignified way, and WTF is wrong with that?

    I deplore the populist wailing and saccharine sentimentality that is always on display following tragedy; not least because it’s shallow, vacuous and tawdry as well as being immensely toe curling. Moreover, it’s no way to get through a crisis. I have no sympathy for the blubbering and emotionally incontinent masses, because they are making a statement to the world about themselves, rather than exhibiting real empathy for the plight of others.

  • Ozfan

    Teresa has just shared with Emma Barnett that she was “devastated” and shed a tear when she first heard the exit poll.

    • Ned Costello

      Well THAT I can relate to, I waw pretty depressed myself.

  • Ned Costello

    I couldn’t agree more, all this faux-grief and childish posturing makes me sick