Youp van ’t Hek thinks the Dutch press is being taken over by paparazzi and Rober M should be put in the prison geriatric ward.

It may have been the result of an innocent gesture: a teacher handing over a dvd for the driver to slide into the dvd player. A moment’s distraction and the rest, sadly, is history. The blood in the Swiss tunnel had barely congealed, the sirens hadn’t stopped blaring and the blue flashlights were still sweeping over frightened faces and doctors were still fighting to save children’s lives when a reporter planted himself at the entrance at the school in Lommel to wait for the devastated parents to arrive and to broadcast their grief on the radio. My radio. He had even been inside the school. Like another doctor Tulleken he had roamed the corridors until the head of the school had thrown him out. He told us so himself. On radio 2!
Paparazzi in pain
Why the head of the school didn’t beat this disaster pornographer to death is beyond me. When 28 people have lost their lives who cares for the life of a vulture preying on parent’s tears? A desperate school head strangling a journalist in a moment of temporary insanity hours after being told he has lost a whole class, what’s not to understand? I think I would have understood Willem Alexander too if he had fired an emergency flare at the journalists outside his hotel a couple of weeks ago. Nothing can beat the sound of paparazzi moaning in pain at moments like these.
Why are even the public broadcasters feeling the need to descend into the gutter? The whole press is turning into one giant Telegraaf. Why do we have to be there when grieving parents visit their children’s school? They are crying and are holding each other. That is what desperate people do. I don’t need to be told about it on my radio. And don’t tell me there’s an off switch on my radio and I don’t have to listen if I don’t want to. I just don’t want predatory eavesdroppers with microphones on a radio station subsidised by the state. This is not Rutger Castricum doorstepping a politician.
Geriatric wing
Two hours later Robert M decided to open his big mouth in court. We should understand the paedophile in general and Robert M in particular, seeing as he struggled with his impulses every time he changed a diaper. And there have been thousands of diapers, so you can imagine how epic a struggle it was. And his marriage to the bean bag, as one paper dubbed his personal provider of lubricants, wasn’t a bed of roses either. Robert M thinks he has already been tried and sentenced. He knows he will spend the rest of his life behind bars. He is right, of course. Not because of public opinion but because of the sickening acts he admitted to. That is why he will be put away for life. And if I were him I would pipe down, or better still, I would not say anything at all, just sit there. And sit and sit.
If I were the judge I would put him in the geriatric wing of the prison, among urine leaking, farting seniors who are losing their marbles. Crazed old people, full of crazy stories, such as the one about a man called Kalbfleish who was in charge of a Dutch competition watchdog and who was fired because he had lied repeatedly under oath. And who had arranged it so that he would be given €352,000 as a farewell present. And how he pocketed the money without blinking an eye and without anyone being able to stop him. Crazy stories, all garbled up of course, coming from the reeking mouth of and old man. And that child molester will have to listen them. I like it.
Youp van ‘t Hek is one of the Netherlands’ best loved comedians and writers