Liz Jones: An Appeal for leniency

Liz Jones isn’t like you and me. She has a purpose. Much like Uatu the Watcher from the Marvel Universe, Liz isn’t so much a participant in this crazy game we call life – she’s more of an observer. When she received her 30 pieces of Silver from the Daily Mail several years back, something very magical happened – she achieved something very few of us ever achieve, apart from Zen Monks with a Serenity level of 86 (+3 meditation bonus) – she ascended to a higher plane of existence. Along with Richard Littlejohn (“The Bile of a Thousand Diseased Spleens”, as he’s referred to in the arcane forbidden texts) she’s the closest that we mere mortals have to a God.

You know the feeling you get when you’re in a plane and gawp mawkishly out the drool-encrusted window and say “Ooh, the people look just like ants” as though you’re the first person to ever say it and even when the words are coming out of your mouth, you know they’re going to sound idiotic and clichéd? That’s how Liz Jones sees us all. Waking or sleeping, breathing or dying – She views us all as little more than chaotic firing neurons crudely housed in bags of tissue and water.

Her writings may appear thoughtless and heartless to some, controversial to others. But let’s not be so quick to point the finger of accusation – Liz would love to write like she did before “the transformation”. Many lovingly remember her touching articles about her horse, or how Exmoor helped her forget about her dead husband – beautifully written and elegant pieces, I’m sure you’ll agree. But those days are long behind her now. Her ascendance to a higher plane has made her a better human being than any of us, and she struggles on a daily basis to remember quite what she was before. Indeed, with every passing day, she loses a little more humanity. We should pity her for this, not hate her.

Her journey to a higher level of existence was not without disappointment; Far from being transformed into a glorious creature of light and joy, her physical frame remained unaltered. The fact that even with her higher powers she still resembles Dorian Green from Birds of a Feather with a wasting disease must be a source of constant grief to her.Let’s take the recent controversial story about Joanna Yates. At first glance it appears to be the ramblings of a self-obsessed over-paid completely-out-of-touch-with-reality journalist with terrible writing skills, but I ask, nay implore you, look at it from the perspective of Liz Jones.

With the superior intellect that comes with her new found powers, how can she be expected to empathize with the species she once belonged to? With her ever-increasing lack of humanity, how can we blame her for equating not having enough money for a toll-booth to the murder of a young girl? What are 50 pence pieces to a God? What are ANY of us?  Is it really evil, with the lack of humanity of Liz, to wish that Joanna Yates had had her last night at a better establishment, and perhaps even a decent veggie burger?

So, please read these words. We must not hate Liz Jones. We must pity her.  If only for the fact that with her new-found powers she could destroy you with but a single thought.