“Antony is dead? You say that as if it were a everyday occurrence.”

Antony is dead? You say that as if it were a everyday occurrence. The soup is hot, the soup is cold. Antony is alive, Antony is dead.

I was watching Monarchy earlier. It was all about Buck House today, and there was a whole thing about the investiture ceremony and yadda yadda, etc, blah…

Then the ridiculously well-accented chap who runs the show took the camera into the room full of index cards of everyone who ever got an honour from the monarch. Index cards, cute, right?

Then he went into a drawer and I idly thought “Fiver says he pulls out the card for one of the Beatles.”

Sure enough, the next words out of his mouth were “Lennon, John Winston.” He read out what honour the aul’ devil got, the day and place of investiture. Then he read out the date Johnny Leper sent the thing back. I smiled, thinking of the letter he wrote Her Maj. back then about sending it back due to Biafra and Cold Turkey slipping down the charts. There was a note on the card: “Returned badge” or something.

Underneath that, in red biro, was one word. The one word was: DIED.

That made me feel both angry and terrifically sad, and reminded me of the scene from Cleopatra quoted above. DIED. Is that how it’s done? Just one four-letter word in red biro on an index card. Why is there not more, something more to say that John Lennon is dead.

Of all the deaths in the world, John’s is one of the most covered, one of the most discussed and over-exposed. I remember the twentieth anniversary and the way I felt that day, the fuss that was made and then repeated five years later. Of all the deceasements in the universe, it’s not one likely to be forgotten.

Yet, to see on a silly index card in St. James’ Palace, just the one word in red biro and capital letters ‘DIED’ seems just wrong. I imagine people sitting in kitchens or on trains on 9th and 10th December 1980, the ones who weren’t bothered, who just shrugged and said “John Lennon is dead. Huh.”

It just seems wrong. It should be screamed from the rooftops, yelled to the stars and everyone should just stop. Red biro on an index card.

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