Madeleine McCann: Emotional Exhibit Kate McCann’s Prayers For Mother’s Day
Only a nutcase cannot feel sympathy for innocent Kate McCann. But the media-fed care is superficial. We pretend to empathise. We just stare and gossip. It’s entertainment. And we can form our views about Kate McCann. Do you like her? Does she irritate you? Do you dislike her? And you can have an opinion because the McCanns have invited us in. She is an emotional exhibit.
Do you link Mothers’ Day, a thing created by companies to flog stuff in between seasons of giving, with the creation of Brand McCann, with their advisors, wristbands, slogans, PR man and ear to power?
Instead of listening to the woman robbed of her child, does one part of us think the presentation too slick to make the McCanns likeable? The McCanns are innocent. They are doing all they can to find their daughter and keep her name in the public conscience. But the PR offensive is relentless.
We know what Kate McCann prayers for because she’s on Aled Jones’ Radio 2 show giving the listeners a slice of pain and emotion to kick start their day. Says she:
“I pray for lots of things now. Obviously I always pray for the family, obviously most of the prayers are centred on Madeleine.
“But I pray for the people who have taken Madeleine, the people who know what’s happened to Madeleine and the people around and related to the person who’s taken Madeleine.”
Having been repeatedly invited to watch the parents, we are now invited to imagine their thoughts.
“I pray for the police and the investigators, the people who are looking for her. And I pray for all the other children who are missing or have been exploited in some way.”
Kate McCanns prayers are with you. If we could see Kate McCann, the BBC would wrap her in soft focus, dress her in a blue cloak and sell her image as a religious artefact.
“These are the times when I go off to church, to be honest. I’ve got a key to the church – they’ve kindly given me one. Sometimes I’ll go in – it’s a bit of a sanctuary, a bit of a refuge. I’ll go and I can speak out, because obviously there’s no one there, just get it all off my chest, really.”
There is not no-one there. We the listeners are there. We are invited to gawp into the sanctuary. And we lap it up, enjoying what Philip Roth called “the ecstasy of sanctimony”.