Tactless brutality

Somebody is having a go at my mate impostune, over on his blog, about an excerpt of his writing which referred to suicide rates. This interjector was apparently concerned that the suicide rates quotes weren't up to date or verified by an independent panel from the Novelists Assured Facts Foundation (NAFF).

Perhaps this same "reader" might also do me a favour the next time he/she's in London and go into the National Gallery. I'd like them to go up to one of the six-quid-an-hour custodians and point out the Seurat picture contains pictures of people with thousands of garish dots on their skin. This is clearly not correct.

Whilst I appreciate that novelists have a duty not to mislead to the detriment of people's lives, I cannot imagine the health care services referring to a novel in order to put support and treatment in place. That would be chuffing ridiculous.

Therefore, for the sake of Wayne Rooney et al, put away your pedantry and accept that information is not knowledge. The knowledge in this case being that suicide rates are a damning confirmation that people are unhappy. The information on which this is based may be subject to change, interpretation and come from different sources. Knowledge is eternal.