SINKING FEELING

A piece of paper bearing the first draft of David Bowie’s lyrics to Starman is expected to fetch up to £4,500 when sold at auction. Quite a lot, you may think, until you compare it with the £126,000 that’s just been paid for a letter written by a first-class passenger who died when the Titanic sank. I don’t get how a waterstained letter from a complete stranger to his mum 105 years ago would be worth 28 times more than the hand-crafted lyrics to a seminal song written by one of the world’s best-loved and most influential musicians who sadly died last year. But then I don’t get the mawkish industry consisting of Titanic films, hotels, tours, museums and memorabilia which has sprung up on the back of a tragedy that killed 1,503 people.

A ship sank in 1912 and lots of people died. It happens every week in the Third World but no one makes a fuss. Probably because none of the passengers were wearing tiaras and evening suits.

Instead of keeping on raising the Titanic, can’t we just let it lie?