The death penalty

We don't have the death penalty in the UK anymore. The last man sent to the gallows over here was in 1964; the last woman, Ruth Ellis, in 1955.

Truthfully, the death penalty is an abhorrent idea.

But isn't it sometimes just necessary? Isn't it?

I don't often find myself between a rock and a hard place. But this does it to me every time. What to do?

I've spent some time here in recent weeks writing about the attacks on goth couple Sophie Lancaster and Robert Maltby. Both were kicked into a coma. She died. It seems only right that I keep documenting the story.

Two teenage boys have been found guilty in court of her murder. Here they are, on the right. I can't say I wish them anything other than death. I would like it to be a long, drawn-out, painful death.

I wish the same thing upon this chap, too, who so enjoyed killing his 24-year-old victim that he got his girlfriend to take pictures of him next to the corpse afterwards.

Can you really tell me, in the face of indisputable evidence, that there is any real alternative but to rid ourselves of such worthless specimens? They literally do not deserve to live.

Dare to be different?

It's never been a huge amount of fun to dare to be different from the norm. While some people might be fascinated by skinny boys with earrings and makeup, others would rather kill what they don't understand, much as they would a spider or a snake.

So when kids get killed in Arkansas, in the Deep South of the United States, who better to blame it on than the loner kids who dress in black, listen to Metallica, and "worship" Satan? We all know the story of the West Memphis 3.

Or, putting the boot on the other foot, maybe we should think about the ongoing case against the five "children" in Bacup, Lancashire, who kicked and stamped Sophie Lancaster to death and left her boyfriend Robert Maltby in a coma (though he has since come out of it) because they dressed like goths. No other reason. Her face was stamped so forcefully that it bore footprints, and her gender was indiscernible from her face to the first paramedics to arrive.

What is the message here? Dress differently, buck the norm, and you will either be kicked to death or spend your life in prison probably wrongly accused.

As a young man in the late '80s and early '90s, I occasionally had to leave places pretty swiftly for fear of a kicking when wearing kilts and heavy makeup. I've been punched, kicked, or verbally abused at random for the look I was sporting at the time. Fortunately nothing more than that. I wanted to think that things might get better for people who dared to be different. Seems I was lucky to be born when I was. Who'd want to be an emo kid or goth these days? Dare to be different? Good luck to you.