The relentless proliferation of awareness-raising campaigns has done sod all to assist the less fortunate.
When I was a self-dramatising adolescent, I would consider suicide roughly once every six weeks, trying it on for size in the manner of pulling on a pair of mock snakeskin platform boots from Dolcis, before deciding that it wasn’t really me. Invariably, the decider (apart from not knowing whether T Rex would beat David Bowie to the top of the Radio 1 singles chart on Tuesday) would be the flying cars, the invention of which I excitedly imagined was just around the corner. I’ve got to stick around to see the flying cars!
