I have lived to see the death of six popes, Burma, the USSR, the Holden, the Queen, Princess Diana, half The Beatles, all The Band and, at a guess, Elvis.

They were all either bigwigs in non-essential fields or pernicious kleptocracies, and none were missed by anyone who wasn’t an in-group proselyte of the stuff they were selling.

Princesses and popes are immediately replaced; theirs is an office, not an achievement. I was a great fan of the Pope when I was a kid. I remember seeing Paul VI blinged and grinning and deciding I’d like to be pope myself one day. A week later I was caught by Deidre Collins while playing kiss chasey and earthly desire trashed those plans. That and the fact I wasn’t a Catholic, I guess.

Credit: Robin Cowcher

Point is, Dalai Llamas beget Dalai Llamas by dying. When death clubs an archbishop, another pops up whack-a-molishly indistinguishable from the last. Pop music, too, demands a reigning sovereign – Prince easily becomes Drake.

But when Christopher Hitchens died the mourning was essential and justified by those of us who enjoy the real stuff........

© Brisbane Times