Yesterday’s Mail managed to mangle together some quotes from Gary’s agent, to produce the headline Gary Speed ‘was not depressed… he was happily married’. The truth is, nobody knows what was going on in Gary’s head. He appeared on television on Saturday and several of his friends have said that there was no indication, no sign. Depression is incredibly personal, and it’s possible to hide it from the world. Without knowing, you can’t claim that he was fine. Obviously, given the tragic events, he wasn’t fine.
It’s a spectacularly shit way of implying that depression is just something you can get over, that you’re feeling a bit sad, but it’s okay, because you have a hot wife. Chin up, eh mate? Depression – assuming that’s what it is – doesn’t work like that. You can’t trick yourself into healing a broken arm, and it’s the same with depression. It’s an actual illness, one that you can’t cure with a fucking magic smile. It’s one that you can temper with a lot of hard work, pills or therapy.
Meanwhile, those morally vacant cunts at the Daily Star have fun with a front page photo of Gary, and the headline: “SPEED: TEN MORE FOOTIE STARS ON BRINK“. The insidious implication is that ten more footballers are going home at night and lobbing a noose over a beam in their mansions, deliberating as to whether to end it all. What sort of fucking speculation is that?
In a week where the Leveson Inquiry is investigating press standards and the methods journalists use to uncover their stories, possibly just one person, one fucking person at the Star would have the heart to say, “Perhaps we shouldn’t run a story like this off the back of someone’s death”. Maybe they can show a little restraint, rather than posting the most lurid shit they can in massive letters.
The Mail too, inexplicably, show this photo of Gary Speed’s house. Photographing photographers photographing his front sign. For fuck’s sake, they must be so proud.
If you’re depressed, and can’t just chin up like the Mail want, then get in touch with a doctor. Now.