Have they charged the McCanns yet?

Ok, yes I am guilty. I am trapped into a daily ritual, out of which I cannot get. In some ways I find it exciting and completely enjoyable, in other ways I feel desperately guilty and worthy of shame.

I am driven by an irrational belief that it is my duty to scrutinise every available media outlet, and to laugh and point. I am not alone, but I am waiting for that tell-tale moment that I know is just around the corner.

My co-workers greet me now with a catchphrase they learned from my excited repetition of it on a daily basis for many many months.

“Have they charged the McCanns yet?” they ask as I asked every time there was a lull in our day and we were all fiddling on the net with a moment to fill.

I feel desperately sorry for the poor innocent Madeleine, the little girl that was abandoned by her parents and went missing over six months ago. Goodness knows what became of the poor child. I can only hope that she is not being subjected to some awful torment or abuse. If she is dead, then I hope her killer(s) rot in hell following a slow and painful death for what they’ve done.

However, my feelings about poor Madeleine herself are completely overshadowed by my feelings and somewhat surprising reactions the circus that is Kate and Gerry McCann bring out in me. When the story first broke, my heart went out to them. Then, as time progressed something, well, just started to feel odd and wrong.

I watched the strange behaviour of the McCanns, the unexpected language they used, the alarming body language, and I guess I considered the evil and disgusting way they dismissed as irrelevant the fact that they had left their children alone some streets away from where they were out drinking to a state of near stupor with their mates.

Soon, they were no longer a frightened couple desperate for the return of poor Madeleine, but a touring roadshow of self-publicity checking in with the Pope, and with highly paid spokesmen saying things they couldn’t be bothered to say themselves.

Most suspicious and free-thinking people picked up on all this, and so started an undercurrent against them. An undercurrent of fury, convinced that not only was their abandonment of three tiny children indicative of their anti-Christ status, but that poor Madeleine was in fact dead at the hands of her parents. Or, at the very least, her death was due to negligence, and they actively conspired with their friends to cover it up and dispose of the child’s body.

This is the state my mind is now in. I cannot accept that the child went missing, I KNOW she died at her parents hands. Pathetic, I know. I have no proof, and am just being mad and irrational, swept along with the mob mentality. But I know it was them. I swap between it being Kate or being Gerry, dependant on the wind of change blowing me from one hysterical collection of conspiracy theories to another.

Yes, yes, yes, all of this is very wrong if all that Kate and Gerry McCann are is terrified and grieving parents who had their child snatched. But, my gut tells me they are not. I’ve no evidence, just my feelings. And I want them punished for it!

Each time another story about theories that DNA is pointing back at the McCanns comes to light, I’m there feverishly reading it, happy that the truth is coming out about these people I’ve already convicted of murder. I even get disappointed when a story of a ‘sighting’ is pushed into the news, and I join in with the unbelievers who are sure it is all a smokescreen from ‘Team McCann’ designed to confuse the reality of what they’ve done.

I’m trapped in this ritual hatred of these apparently cold and manipulative people, hating their connections with wealthy and influential people who are running their circus for them, and yet the whole thing is only in my head. I know nothing of the truth. I should let it go and I should just wait. But, tomorrow I’ll be in to work asking the same question, “Have they charged the McCanns yet?”