Trolling and doorstepping: The good, the bad and the unacceptable

The British used to be known for being undemonstrative, un-emotional and possessing a stiff upper lip. The internet seems to have ripped those filters away - the mask of anonymity allowing the most bilious comments and the phenomenon of trolling.

How did a church-going, sixty-something, provincial woman such as Brenda Leyland become 'Sweepyface' posting vile comments about the parents of Madelaine McCann? Is this the face of modern Britain?

Trolls: the (almost) acceptable type

Well, no of course it is not. Much has been theorised about the death of the stiff upper lip, many dating the occurrence from the emotionally incontinent reaction to the death of Princess Diana. Yet we Brits have been much more willing to show our emotions than the cliché demands, whether on VE Day or mourning/celebrating the death of Margaret Thatcher.

Also it is not the relatively recent invention of the internet that has allowed Britons to be anonymously vituperative. The poison pen letter is a staple of British crime fiction and a news search shows that that this analogue tradition is alive and vile in the age of Twitter and Facebook.

Did Brenda Leyland - who it appears to have subsequently died by suicide* - deserve to be doorstepped by a Sky News team and exposed to the nation? I tend to agree with  Roy Greenslade , and Grace Dent that there was a public interest in doorstepping the woman - who was not identified by name on-screen - but perhaps it should not have been broadcast live.

Doorstepping has long and noble tradition in British journalism. Who can forget the dogged exploits of Roger Cook? Although more recently televised doorstepping has been more about theatre than getting results - I am thinking of Donal Macintyre here - for many journalists it has been the only way to confront the subjects of their investigation.

I have had to do it myself in my journalism days. I attempted to doorstep George Galloway at his Streatham home (his near neighbour: Cynthia Payne), but only succeeded in having a garbled conversation with his then girlfriend whilst avoiding the teeth of his angry Alsatian. I had a much more civilised response from a wealthy Labour donor I once doorstepped in Notting Hill. Both doorsteps were done to allow the insertion of the sentence 'when approached for comment at his London home, last night...' in the text of the newspaper article.

Incidentally, being a non-driver, I always had to hire a taxi whilst on doorstep duty from the cab firm my employers used. The drivers were known for their fearlessness. The firm was the only one to cross the picket lines during the Wapping dispute, thus earning the label of the 'scabby cabbies'.

I missed out on serving an apprenticeship on local newspapers, so as well as sadly lacking any shorthand skills I never had to do the death knock. Yet the doorstep is a vital part of keeping journalism alive - even in this world of digital trolls.


*I urge anyone who has to write about suicide to first consult the excellent media guidelines from the Samaritans.