I DO have a heart

I've been a bit concerned about my lack of reaction to the deaths of that Crikey bloke and Brocky (who I vaguely recognised from some car ads and thought was rather handsome) and feeling a bit outside the Zeitgeist at the outpouring of public grief, especially when level-headed cultural commentators like Elsewhere reveal a shamefaced fascination with the televised memorial serivce.

One of my workmates said not to worry; there's bound to be some OTHER celebrity who I feel closer to than Steve Irwin, someone I have more in common with and actually identify with (and I was about to launch into my story about how upset I was at school when the news came that Andy Warhol had died but realised in time I was being pretentious). We both agreed to not caring that much about Princess Di but being fascinated by the funeral.

Anyway, last week, I was surprised by how horrified I was that Richard Hammond, one of the presenters of Top Gear was injured in a test of jet powered car when trying to break the British Land Speed record. (As you do)

Not quite upset enough to join the 4,000 plus people who've left a get well soon message at SBS's website but disproportionately glad that the accident wasn't as bad as initial reports and that he's talking and stuff.

What does it mean that I care more about a guy on a year old show about English people test driving cars I couldn't buy here even if I could afford them than "iconic" Australians? Must be a latte drinking chardonnay swilling member of the chattering inner-city elite or something with a slice of hitherto undetected revhead.

I still hope he gets well soon.