Two loyal readers have today enquired what the Minister has to say about the death this morning of Posh Boy Dave’s eldest son.

Accusations of naivety and disingenuity are rarely levelled at the Minister, but I genuinely hadn’t intended to say anything more about the matter than I did about the recent news that a minor royal had got engaged for precisely the same reason that I consider it has stuff all to do with me or, for that matter, anybody outside the immediate family, friends and colleagues of the individuals concerned.

I am not a parent and I cannot even pretend to imagine what the Camerons are going through at the moment.  Whatever PBD’s political faults, he is a person before he is a Tory and he must be distraught tonight.  I don’t wish that pain on anybody and I feel genuinely sorry for the family.

The reaction has been suitably hysterical (including, it seems, from normally fairly sensible overseas outlets) – the death overnight of a six-year-old boy should not dominate news bulletins all day*, let alone lead to a suspension of Parliamentary business with the country in the middle of an economic meltdown – but that is only to be expected in a country that permanently mislaid its sense of perspective in August 1997.

(*Pisspoor Meejahor of the Day: the BBC’s Political Editor, Nick Robinson, during the 12 minutes devoted to the story by the editor of the Six: “In life Ivan Cameron could not talk.  Today, in death, Westminster spoke for him.”  Fcuksake.)

There is something chilling about hearing this particular Prime Minister sermonising that, “Every child is precious and irreplaceable and the death of a child is an unbearable sorrow that no parent should ever have to endure,” when he’s played such an integral role in Our Brave Boys dropping bombs on little brown children throughout Iraq and Afghanistan for the past seven years.

The only matter I consider worthy of comment is to contrast the PR approach adopted by the Camerons today with that of Britain’s Sweetheart Jade Goody™.

According to respected sources:

Mr Cameron has made clear he wants privacy

and

Samantha and David Cameron have asked that “their privacy be respected” 

Yet this is a man who put young Ivan in front of almost every camera going, stuck his kids on his Christmas cards and seemingly brought Ivan’s illness into every other speech he gave.

With respect, Dave, if you repeatedly choose to use your extremely ill child as a political prop for years, you can’t really legitimately shy away from the cameras when the inevitable happens.  The paps have earned the money shots of the grieving mother and the child-sized coffin, and they won’t be sated until they get their way.

I don’t know Jade Goody, the person; I do, however, know enough about Jade Goody, the “celebrity”, to know that she is famous only for carving a career out of her ignorance, lack of self-awareness and immaturity.

She has, however, reacted to her terminal cancer diagnosis in a commendably honest manner: instead of seeking to retire from the public spotlight that has made her a very wealthy woman over the past few years, she has been brassy enough to say that she intends to milk her imminent death for every cent it is worth to the sons she will leave behind.  Her “reality” show continues filming; she gets hitched so she could land a magazine deal; she’ll play the baldy freak on the front page of The Sun so she can bank the cheque.

So it seems that an ill-educated loudmouth – begat of the union of a pimp and a clipper, drug addicts both – understands the way the Faustian pact with the devil Celebrity works better than our next Prime Minister, the product of a very expensive private schooling, the recipient of a first class Oxford degree and – irony of ironies – an ad man by “trade”.

Somewhere in that previous paragraph there’s the perfect distillation of Great Britain plc in 2009.

It’s a fucking scary place to be.