I’m sick of the ghouls flocking round the Nicola Bulley case – this is not Netflix drama, amateur sleuths are a disgrace
IT’S been a shocking week, and there was I was thinking things might slowly be getting better.
I had hoped the police were getting better at protecting us from domestic violence and violent crime, and that society had learnt lessons from #MeToo.
But this week we’ve seen Met Police officer David Carrick sent down for at least 30 years for 85 serious offences against women, including rape, assaults and false imprisonment.
Then there has been the suspected gun killing of a school headmistress and her young daughter in Epsom, Surrey.
A man lured a mother and her two-year-old to Scotland then murdered them, after meeting the woman on a dating app.
A father was found guilty of the manslaughter of his disabled daughter.
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Another man has been arrested in connection with the disappearance of an 11-year-old girl.
The list goes on.
And the mystery of mum Nicola Bulley, who went missing while walking her dog more than two weeks ago in Lancashire, has had us all perplexed and concerned.
With every day that passes, we all wait with bated breath for news of Nicola.
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No more so than her two young daughters, boyfriend and other nearest and dearest.
The lack of any leads has led to a barrage of speculation and allegations on social media from people who believe their comments might be helpful.
And it was horrific to hear that some crackpots, who think they have ownership of this unfolding news story, have even taken it upon themselves to travel to the spot where Nicola was last seen and post photos taken by the bench where her phone and dog were found.
Lancashire Police even had to issue a dispersal order on a group of men who had travelled from Liverpool to search an abandoned house near the spot, under the auspices of “helping” with this missing person investigation.
These amateur sleuths either believe it’s right to take the law into their own hands with their ghoulish, macabre and gruesome ways like tourist detectives, or simply think they know better than the police who are running the investigation.
What is wrong with people?
This is not a Netflix series. It’s not Cluedo or an escape room.
This is not a joke. At the very heart of this story is the disappearance of a woman whose two young girls must feel lost and disorientated by the absence of their mother.
There is a boyfriend who must be wrought with fear for his partner, parents in shock and disbelief that there is no trace of their beloved daughter.
And friends who must feel so confused by their buddy just going missing like this.
I can’t decide whether people are just sick in the head or have developed a greater appetite for real-life crimes thanks to TV series and podcasts.
So much so that they lose all sense of rationality and humanity.
Pammy is proof that you can be sexy and strong
I DEFY anyone to watch the Pamela Anderson documentary on Netflix and not be blown away by just how shamelessly formidable this woman is.
There’s something about Pammy. And I’ve always known it.
I can’t deny I was a little bit in love with her when she first ran into my life on the Baywatch beach in my early twenties, knocking me sideways with her obvious beauty, enviable body and those two marvellous assets.
We were contemporaries.
Same age, both blonde and starting out in our careers.
There are some very significant differences between Pammy and me but I don’t need to spell them out.
I always felt we were kindred spirits and it wasn’t just a blonde thing.
As she rewinds through those pivotal, high-octane years of her life, you learn she is in fact a wholesome, family orientated, caring, savvy, animal-rights activist and feminist with a very good grasp of her place in the world.
Diehard romantic
She was given to us as a body and a pretty face.
Of course, I didn’t reach the dizzy heights of fame that she did but we were both viewed as blonde bimbos who couldn’t be taken seriously.
Being blonde can be a curse in many ways.
Both of us were treading that tightrope which teetered above objectification, and who we really might be behind our appearances.
She was forced to endure interviewers referring to her boobs and joking about her sexiness, and joined in the gags to her own detriment.
I did the same, always allowing people to take the mick out of me, and laughing at me because I knew no one was ready to take me seriously.
I was a pretty face because that was all anyone wanted me to be.
And then you see Pammy’s pursuit of love and romance.
Oh Gawd. Me too, I’m afraid.
She married Tommy Lee in a bikini in Mexico after knowing him for only four days, swept away by the intensity of their love, and their obsession with each other.
She was, and still is, a diehard romantic.
I once accepted a marriage proposal after two days, fuelled by my desire for a happy ending.
It didn’t end happily and thankfully we didn’t marry.
But that didn’t stop me. I married three times.
Pammy married six times, twice to the same guy, and all the marriages ended in divorce or annulment.
She remains a hopeless romantic and says she’s probably still “looking for a feeling” that she can’t find.
But it was her dedication as a mother that struck me.
All this Canadian sex symbol really wanted was a conventional home life, with her kids and a husband. But that has eluded her.
My burning ambition was to be a mum and, just as my fervour for romance ruled my heart, my passion for motherhood was just as strong.
The infamous sex tape which so devastated Pammy’s life only reinforced her status as merely a sexual creature.
Love of animals
It somehow made sense at the time, when sexism and misogyny was allowed to go unchallenged, to reduce this woman of depth to just a sex object.
The casual and direct sexism she was forced to suffer, purely because she was a woman who had willingly showed off her breasts, meant she was never truly permitted to shine or even be taken sincerely as a person with meaningful intent.
Little wonder, then, that she turned her attention to her love of animals as a force for good.
I get you, Pammy. Animals are so much better than humans.
The documentary is a sign of the times and how, thankfully, things have started to change.
If she was just breaking through now, she’d still be objectified by the misogynistic army of ignorant men but she’d have a stronger defence.
Her defence is that you can be pretty, sexy, independent, strong and a decent human being.
Like Pammy, I still don’t understand why we can’t lead a romantic life every day.
But I guess that is our beauty. And possibly our biggest flaw.
Creepy age gap feels like it’s one step too far
I KNOW I’m not the only one who finds Leonardo DiCaprio’s pursuit of much younger women not just distasteful but also sickening.
Old Leo is 48 and he is well known to have dated a string of under-25s.
He was said to be dating model although this week he denied those rumours.
While I understand the glitz and glamour of a Hollywood star must be irresistible, it’s unfathomable that someone so young could consider spending her formative adult years with a man who is old enough to be her father.
The idea that I might date or, God forbid, be in a relationship with an 18 to 19-year-old man does not only feel wrong and counterintuitive, but just a step too far.
Why would I want to be with a man so young?
I’m afraid it gives me the creeps.
Curse of the dating apps
HERE I go again.
Another rant about the world of dating apps and how shockingly detrimental their effects can be.
They may have been designed to enhance human connection but in truth they’re increasing it.
And not always in a positive way.
Psychologists now confirm excessive swiping is linked to self-doubt and a fear of being single.
The number of profiles and “availables” is making people feel overwhelmed and distracted.
Researchers refer to something called “partner choice overload” and recommend if you’re serious about meeting someone, you should restrict the amount of swiping in search of that obsessive instant gratification.
They’re spot on.
But the process becomes addictive.
It creates a compulsion to find someone and engenders a fear in people of being single for ever.
My journey on the dating apps started two years ago and I was naive enough to think you only messaged one person at a time.
Anything else seemed, to me, a bit like infidelity.
Toughen up
I might just be a bit old-fashioned.
I’ve always been trusting and believed in people’s intent.
But this dating app malarkey has shot that to pieces.
I’ve become the most cynical person ever.
I find it hard to trust now. I don’t believe what people say because inevitably you know they are constantly keeping their options open.
They are metaphorically looking over your shoulder to see if there’s a better option.
It’s been a steep learning curve and I had to toughen up fast.
Honesty has largely fallen by the wayside.
Accountability has gone out the window.
Sincerity has left the building.
To top it all, the whole process is now affecting our mental health.
It feels like we’ve created a monster from which there is no escape or return.
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It has forced us to lower expectations but raised our levels of anxiety.
Single life is looking increasingly desirable.