No man better understood the human condition than Oscar Wilde and in the Ballad of Reading Gaol he expressed so perfectly our frailty but also our innate cruelty. My favourite lines are when he tells us that:
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword.
My brittle ego has truly been crushed tonight by a friendly suggestion from Twitter. It's not that I have been drawn into the epic internet battles regarding X Factor nor am I being cyber-bullied for thinking that Jeremy Clarkson is either a brilliant post-modern satirist or an arse in need of a kick. Oh no, this was far more humiliating. Let me explain. I write a music blog and I've come to love it in a weird kind of way. It's an extension of myself and I feel that the people who know me best can see my character within. So imagine the feeling when Twitter tells me that an account written by a Christian granny with no appreciation of the nuances of minimal techno or Icelandic folk music is similar to mine. That hurts.
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