In a development that has sent shockwaves through the chattering classes of Los Angeles and beyond, the assistant to the late, lamented Matthew Perry has been sentenced to 41 months in federal prison for her role in his ketamine-related death. The verdict, delivered by a judge who presumably has never experienced the giddy thrill of a Hollywood rehab centre gift shop, has been met with a peculiar brand of transatlantic smugness. British commentators have seized upon the moment to extol the virtues of their own drug laws, which they claim are a beacon of restraint in a world gone mad on opioids and celebrity excess.
Let us pause to examine this paragon of pharmaceutical virtue. The UK's approach to drug control is, if we are to believe the editorial pages, a masterclass in gentle parenting. A slap on the wrist with a velvet glove, a stern word over a cup of Earl Grey. But do not be fooled, dear reader. The British establishment’s tolerance for ketamine is akin to its tolerance for bad weather: a stoic acceptance that does not preclude occasional, spectacular bursts of moral outrage. Remember the 2018 case of the ketamine-addled public schoolboy who was merely given a caution and a chiding about his breeding? Ah, restraint.
Meanwhile, back in the land of the free, an assistant has been turned into a cautionary tale, a human sacrifice on the altar of the War on Drugs. The prosecution argued that she was a greedy enabler, a sycophant who traded access for cash. The defence, in a move that would make Dickens weep, painted her as a patsy, a pawn in Perry's own tragic game. Both narratives are true, and neither matters. What matters is the spectacle. The American justice system has a flair for the dramatic, turning every courtroom into a morality play, complete with weeping relatives and a judge who fancies himself a Greek chorus.
But let us not be overly churlish. The British model, with its tight-lipped discretion and its preference for rehab over prison, may indeed be more humane. Yet it is also a model that relies on a class system so rigid that the drug habits of the upper echelons are treated as a medical issue, while those of the lower orders are a criminal one. So before we hold up the UK as a paragon, let us remember that British restraint is often just a euphemism for letting the rich off the hook.
In the end, this is all just noise. Matthew Perry is still dead. His assistant is going to prison. And somewhere in a London club, a man in a pinstripe suit is nodding wisely, declaring that we must learn from the Americans' mistakes, all while ordering another round of gins. The moral of the story? There is none. Only the endless, absurd theatre of the news cycle, which I shall now drown in a glass of something strong. Cheers.
