No fuss and no fight?

I've written something for the Guardian's new Arts and Entertainment Blog about Crazy Titch's conviction for murder, the full story of which can be pieced together from here, here and here. What I didn't have space to address is that creeping sense of guilt and complicity that a lot of grime fans, including me, will feel. The more over-the-top brutal a lyric is, the more I enjoy it - and I can't be the only one who, when drunk, will occasionally draw for their imaginary mekkle, pull out the gun-finger, shout 'Brap!', and merk any wasteman in the area. Grime violence is great fun - until a crisis like this, and suddenly the joke's over. This dilemma is familiar from dancehall: it's just about possible to ignore chat about 'bunnin' the batty man', or to treat it as metaphorical, or whatever, until the next time you read about a non-metaphorical gay man getting non-metaphorically lynched.

Update: Jaimie Collinson of Big Dada has written a cogent reply to my piece.