Regarding the matter of some of the so-called child refugees granted entry to the UK being older than they claim and not children at all …
Paedophilia is abhorrent and not even the most unfeeling of us would dream of suggesting otherwise.
But at what age should we stop feeling sorry for the victims of rape?
When she’s 18?
Surely not — she is, after all, just beginning to flower into the first bloom of womanhood and to have her life blighted at such an early age is tragic.
How about 28 then?
Surely by the time she is 48 though a woman should be old enough to just get over it rather than indulge in bemoaning her lot in an otherwise cosseted life, should she not?
What about those whose lives are cut short by a drunk driver?
It is clear that the death of a child due to criminal carelessness is, again, nothing short of a tragedy.
But, surely, there comes an age when the loss of life is less significant and the death of a loved one who had ‘a good innings’, whilst somewhat unfortunate, is hardly grounds for unalloyed grief.
As for those fleeing war-torn homelands (let alone mere poverty), therefore … whilst bullets and bombs hurt no matter how old one may be (and famine is likewise indifferent to age) there must come a threshold beyond which one simply accepts that one’s life is no longer of as much value as it once was and refrains from unreasonably attempting to better it.
I’m really interested to know at what point I can legitimately stop caring about the plight of others and dismiss them and their circumstances with a clear conscience.
Because, whilst I don’t know about anyone else, my bleeding, middle-class, liberal heart is in need of a rest!
So much so, in fact, that I’m giving serious consideration to one of these …