How to Kick a Man When He's Dead

There used to be an unwritten equation when attempting to make light of a shocking or upsetting event. It went something like this:

Tragedy + Time = Comedy

That middle part was generally key - try and jump in with a light-hearted take on the situation too soon and you could risk looking like an insensitive prick.

Over the years, the gap between something tragic happening and the first wave of jokes about it has become shorter and shorter, to the point where it's entirely feasible that someone could've easily written a terrorist-based sitcom between the first and second planes hitting the World Trade Center.

If you throw the Internet into the mix, the equation would now look more like this:

Tragedy = How Fast You Can Post to B3ta

I haven't bothered trying to search out all the examples of "humour" extracted from the sad death of Steve Irwin, but I know they're out there already - it's as certain as Vernon Kay is a twat.

I don't know why people feel the need to try and outdo each other in their crassitude. Are all these weak puns and hastily knocked together Photoshop gags just individuals trying to show a bit of edge by being first to the punch? Or are people actually showing their true natures?

If it's the former, then hiding behind the anonymity of a stupid made-up name and an untraceable e-mail account is hardly anything to boast about.

But if it's the latter, that's far more unsettling. There's a seamy side to the Internet, and I'm not just talking about the various hate groups or the more sordid end of the self-love market. With the unprecedented freedom the Web has brought us, there's apparently less reason than ever for some people to employ a bit of sensitivity, and I fear that for some, the marks they leave online are probably closest to their true feelings.