Having written a play about the death of Margaret Thatcher, I feel strangely sensitive (perhaps even protective) about the event itself.
So this story on BBC News today caught my attention:
A misconstrued text message announcing the passing of a beloved pet has sparked a flurry of diplomatic activity in Canada.
Transport Minister John Baird sent a message reading: "Thatcher has died".
Conservative Prime Minister Stephen Harper was soon informed that 84-year-old former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher had passed away.
But it was actually Mr Baird's beloved cat, named after his political heroine, who had died.
Of course, the fact that such a non-story made the news, and the traffic to the blog about my Thatcher play tripled overnight, shows just how much fascination her eventual demise continues to hold.
Update: Obviously this post should have been titled "The death of Moggie Thatcher"
So this story on BBC News today caught my attention:
A misconstrued text message announcing the passing of a beloved pet has sparked a flurry of diplomatic activity in Canada.
Transport Minister John Baird sent a message reading: "Thatcher has died".
Conservative Prime Minister Stephen Harper was soon informed that 84-year-old former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher had passed away.
But it was actually Mr Baird's beloved cat, named after his political heroine, who had died.
Of course, the fact that such a non-story made the news, and the traffic to the blog about my Thatcher play tripled overnight, shows just how much fascination her eventual demise continues to hold.
Update: Obviously this post should have been titled "The death of Moggie Thatcher"
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