Express & Star

Forget scary movies, evil is closer than you realise

I pride myself on my bravery. I can knock the door of a stranger to seek out a challenging story, watch horror movies without a cushion and I can catch a spider and release it safely elsewhere without having the desire to burn my entire flat to the ground.

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To me, true horror lies not in nightmarish masks, in the dark or in creepy crawlies, goblins or ghoulies.

It lies in the comment sections on YouTube, in the offhand remarks made on Facebook and Twitter and on spiteful observations on articles and forums.

True monsters don't lurk under beds, they hide behind computer screens. The worst trolls don't devour billy goats innocently trip-trapping across bridges; they make online assassination attempts.

For every message that's shared with the world, there are millions of web users that are happy to rip them to shreds. Sitting at laptops, regular people work to actively make others feel upset.

Call me a troll, but recently Judy Finnigan made a pretty moronic statement about a rape committed by footballer Ched Evans, claiming it was 'non-violent' and 'did not cause bodily harm'. Some rapes are not more serious than others, Judy, and the concept is idiotic.

As a result of these positively stupid comments, the internet surged with fury. Like me, hundreds of people reacted to the inflammatory statement in annoyed tones. I tutted into a glass of squash and made a mental note that what some TV presenter of days gone-by thinks is of no real relevance and that some people are just daft.

Others, however, channelled their annoyance in misjudged ways, some slating Judy for her appearance and others, disgustingly, threatening her daughter Chloe with rape.

As a result, the Government is looking at new and harsher ways to crack down on trolling. Hurrah!

Sadly, you don't have to look far to see trolls in action.

Models that are as close to physical perfection are pulled apart for being too thin, too fat, for having a big nose or teeth or any number of imperfections. If there's one thing trolls love, it's an imperfection.

Even as a columnist I've left myself open to the occasional acid-fingers of readers in comment sections, calling for me to be sacked because I disagree with their method of parenting or going so far as to wish me infertile.

Face to face, we'd likely converse about how I frustrated them. I'd reiterate my point and tell them I understood why they felt differently. We'd have a cup of tea and I'd apologise for hard feelings and ask what they were having for dinner and that would be that.

Real life offers a level of immunity from trolling. On the whole, people can be really nice. When we share moments with others, we can sense their tone of voice or see their smiles and blushes and awkwardness.

When we disagree, we can work through it, agreeing to disagree with a pat on the back or a very British tut. Or, we can tell them that their comments are ludicrous, challenging them and then, when all is said and done, walking away knowing we'd made a relevant point.

Disagreements are natural, and debating is healthy. Being a troll, however, is inexcusable.

Even in The Exorcist, we can take comfort that the poisonous vomit the main character spouts is a pea soup special effect.

Sadly the bile spouted online, day after day, is all too real. Therein lies a true horror story.

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