Dolores O'Riordan death: Cranberries star died by accidental drowning due to alcohol intoxication

[snoop1130]

Dolores O'Riordan death: Cranberries star died by accidental drowning due to alcohol intoxication

By Frances Kindon

 

Image: WENN

 

Dolores O'Riordan died by drowning in a bath after drinking excessively during an 'episode of mania', an inquest has heard today.

 

The tragic Cranberries star was found 'face up in the bath dressed in her pyjamas', Westminster Coroners' Court was told today on what would have been her 47th birthday.

 

Five empty miniature bottles of spirits, an empty 35cl bottle of Champagne, as well as cigarettes and the packaging for some medication were found by police in her room.

 

After years of struggling with alcohol and drug abuse, the star had recently quit drinking, her US psychiatrist confirmed, but toxicology reports carried out after her death confirmed she consumed an 'excessive' amount of alcohol on the night of her death.

 

Full Story: https://www.mirror.co.uk/3am/celebrity-news/dolores-oriordan-inquest-cranberries-star-13200405

[shadowofacloud]

Super sad. ?

I really enjoyed "No Need to Argue", when I was, well, much younger...

[NCC1701A]

wow "Zombie" is like the Thai national anthem.

 

I think the Thais think it is about Zombies.

 

RIP.

[Phuket Man]

1 hour ago, NCC1701A said:

wow "Zombie" is like the Thai national anthem.

 

I think the Thais think it is about Zombies.

 

RIP.

Thais think????

 

A shame about Dolores. A nice lady with a good voice.

[Nice Boyd]

Alcohol, I’m a hater , too many on the dead friends list


Sent from my iPhone using Thaivisa Connect

[inThailand]

13 hours ago, NCC1701A said:

wow "Zombie" is like the Thai national anthem.

 

I think the Thais think it is about Zombies.

 

RIP.

Yup. It's their favorite falang song and TV show. 

 

[Sparkling]

Zombie – The Sound of Souls German Original 08.12.2011 English 17.07.2012 (c) bernhard r c faaß, munich

Here is a short story originally in german. Please accept my apology for all the flaws in the translation. My english is limited. I am not a native speaker. Any corrections will be welcome. Helpful correctors will be named. The original version in german can be found on www.empyreal.de/zombie.htm The character Tom is fictional, but the story is all true.

It´s copyrighted. For commercial use please ask for permission.

Tom was in a bar. For playing snooker, pool-billard to be exactly. There was only one table, which is why all those who wanted to play, were rotating and each of the losers had to suspend. That was OK for Tom. So he was able to calmly sip his cocktails and watch the passing life on the road. He liked that. Just sit and watch the people. This task generally offered abundant amusement in a tourist area. He wasn´t a gifted player anyway. Only occasionally, but with good ability to calculate the geometric pathways, he played for fun. The calculations were good, the implementation was wide sliding regardless of the complexity, sometimes worked out, sometimes would not. Sometimes he had the feeling for the right push, which was far more effective than the calculation and it appears to be also spectacular implementation, which he pretended to simply master casually even without real trust in his successful operation, especially if he succeeded unexpected. He developed no ambition. It was pastime and social interaction.

In the tourist areas there were always and everywhere, more or less girls. Certainly in the bars.
Who served, entertained the guests and with a few exceptions were also prepared for a fee to follow home to accompany or to spend long time with them. This was known. Some belonged to the bars, others came to visit, again others brought their male escort with them. A guarantee of sales. There was no fundamental problem, because all those involved were at age and the girls already longer than that were mature already. To be mature could not be garanteed for all of the male guests, but this certainly was in total no matter. In any case had they decided for themselves, what they are doing. Tom was aware of this situation and more than many visitors of the country, that the girls in general hardly had many options available. Most, realistically available alternatives appeared to be far less encouraging to them than this.

Usually had they enjoyed little education, not all could read and write, often victims of rape, some orphans were among them or they came from very poor conditions. Tom liked the girls. They liked him and met him with much respect and gentle kindness. They seemed to know exactly that he would never offend them. Perhaps he aired that. Tom had just no interest in mechanical sex. Sex without feeling. Sex with someone , who not wanted and certainly not enjoyed to do so, was at least moronic in his eyes. How should he himself really enjoy, if the partner of the association, wasn´t able to enjoy, did not want to ? How, where would be an association possible? Was that not the proverbial sense of the exercise ? The mutual experience. Could not fold.

Their Beauty, however, had never escaped him. Some were really cute, some of excellent beauty. Simply natural beauty. Radiant and strict. To Tom strictly looking women were sexy. The rigor of this girls came to large part of their immutable facial expressions, which should prevent insight into their state of mind. Around here it is impolite to show feelings to the public. The environment should not be harassed with personal issues. And this attitude also offers just self-defense.

Tom had learned long before the great difference between purely optical enjoyment and fulfilment in the physical act. He wasn´t deceived easily. Here, it was quite clear: the girls wanted no sex. Definitely not with a stranger. No interest at all. They needed the money. Each of them would have gone home with Tom, if he would have paid for it like others. That was their job. Why should one consider any customer, the sorrow or worry again and again ? The limit of their self-sacrifice was far exceeded. The trauma was deepened, but the best way, however, was indifference and oblivion. Forget the act, forget the customer, forget the time. Forget. The money buys food and accommodation. Because this was necessary to think about. No matter how little they knew. They knew how to survive. Every child in the province learns that. Soon.

They were caring for Tom, what he enjoyed a lot, because this was not an issue between them.
Tom enjoyed the beauty. Their smile. To obvious how the face of the temptation transformes, if you give in. The friendship would go to hell.

More than once one of the girls has her heart delivered to him in expectation of psychological assistance or even hope of a solution of their misery. Sure it helped just to talk and speak out in a atmosphere of trust. You could also joke without arousing desire, just stay relaxed. They knew, no they unfortunately not knew very much, but they felt, he had an understanding for them, wouldn´t condem, was able to explain and knew things that maybe could help a little bit further. Farang luu maak. The foreigner knows a lot. Maybe they would not understand everything. They liked to listen. Listen to the sound of a caring voice, who does not ask for a service. It drove other thoughts away. Less beautiful thoughts. At least for a very small time.

Tom sat at the bar and enjoyed the rare rock music, because in the meantime, here as well as in the clubs of the western world in particular commercial techno, dance, House, and cheap mixes shouted out of overdriven speakers in the night spots.
Suddenly the homosexual bartender with conspiratorial gestures put in a song. The song was new to Tom. He informed himself only sporadically about new releases and much of it simply passed him. Neither he listened to radio stations or knew charts. This song had, what was demanded to vital Tom´s interest in music. He grabbed him. Instantly. The growling bass line. The out-of-fashion crunch-guitar...the voice. It was a ten-year-old world hit, he had never carried out. The alcohol, the cocktails must have gone to his head and he turned his eyes to the sky, to the stars as the girls joined in.
"But you see, it ´s not me..." From the bridge, most of the girls in the bar sang along, in the Chorus, each and any of them. They knew the words by heart. They never had learned English at school or in their activities properly. It usually was very limited, no more than a few years in the job, maybe less and their practice of the language could not be enough. Their education was in general very rudimentary. This verses they did memorize. They sang it loose, powerful. The chorus fervently. They sang such as from one throat. They sang well. It was a choir. Showers ran up and down his spiral. He watched the girls that did not seem to be involved. They sang easily and looked and played pool and drank their drinks. Verse. To the bridge again. Tom was bewitched, enchanted. Fantastic.

The song was then completed and the bar service carried on. Everything normal. Tom was still half in trance. He drank more and got tired. It was time, the new peer session had almost been reached and he went to his bungalow. Drunk and still inspired by the unexpected event he thought about it. How beautiful and harmonious the girls had sung. To him it felt a bit like if they had sung for him. For this there was no reason found except his personal impression, his feeling. He was aware of that. He came to the conclusion that the girls from the same bar or the surrounding ones all were friends or knew each other and had discovered that song together, somehow fell for it and therefore had probably often enough sung it, kind of practiced.
It was a beautiful experience. But the impression faded with the days.

Tom attended the OVADA Showband shows often. A gracious, Philipino cover band with entertaining spectacular stage show, which consisted almost entirely from family members. Without a doubt the two sisters, Baby and Rose, were the main attraction. Pretty, sexy outfits, for every show a new one and with bass and lead guitar they acted in the front. The natural musicality of the Phillipinos, the joy of life and years of routine during live performances was cause for sovereign polyphonic vocals, successful star imitations, coupled with wild acrobatics, synchronized dancing, and virtuos playing. Especially Baby at the Solo guitar regularly gave rise to enthusiasm in the audience. Tom had discovered and met them years before. They were friends. He drank cocktails enjoyed the sound, the show and especially adored Baby, whose solos to him resulted regularly in a physical phenomenon. He was a guitarist quite good himself, enough to consider her virtuosity, but would not compare to this girls incredible performance.

Suddenly he recognized the bassintro of the number he first heard in the bar. He did not know that the song was part of the repertoire. He had never heard the song previously from the OVADA band. The concert took place as always in a relatively large open Night Club led by an Irish management. The band was under contract of the operator. That ensured a consistent salary. Some of the few places with Live music. With Rock music, because the OVADA band covered Western Sizes of the popular styles from the 1960s to 1990s. It prefers the Heroes of Rock. Zep, Purple, AC, Gun ´s, Metallica. Everything with lots of guitar. They had also Robbie Williams and ABBA in the program.
The guests were mostly tourists and expats, foreigners who were residents. The staff was inevitably domestic and otherwise there was locals as well as the female company of the foreigners. Girls with and without sponsor.

All the girls again began to sing along when the bridge of the number came. "But you see, it ´s not me..." All of them.

Baby was professional enough to stop the band and the hall, which had as mentioned no walls, for which because of climate was no need found, arose to sing a capella, without accompaniment. Except the perfect choir of the girls everything was silent. Baby shined and heated the amount on. They sang. The band reinstated. Verse. At the bridge. No let-up. Chorus same game. A dream. Baby solo. Chorus with band. The girls sing. All the girls in the restaurant, the girls from the staff, girls on the street came and had stopped to join in. One was passing by on her motorbike, had stopped and sang sitting on her motorbike. Tom watched this exactly. How could all those girls sing like that?  The verses ? Together ? In harmony ? One voice.
The event was much more intense than in the bar. Here were all sorts of people checked together. Girls from all over the country brought together by all possible guys. And there were much more. The customer and friends of the girls just all still sat there no sound made. The girls and their vocals dominated the scene. They sang. Powerful. Strong and vibrating. Tom shuddered.

After the first miraculous encounter with the song Tom had, as a habit of his interest in the content of the songs he liked ordered, looked up and understood the words on the Internet. It went to violence. A certain strain of surpressing violence. The violence of destruction and war. The violence to which man is capable, if he looses the belief in love, does not know love. When he is afraid. Is lost.

All these girls knew this violence only too well. It was not sure whether the quite poetic verses were really exactly understood or like sometimes a mimicking teenager, only the sound of the words was catched. Anyway they understood, it was their song. This song described their suffering, their life, their fate. They felt that, could feel it. That is why could they sing so fervently, so thrilly, so terribly beautiful. All of them.

These screams of pain. The violence. This song described the violence of the war. Violence, indifferent to the fellow human, violence that defied life.
It was the same sort of violence, they knew all too well.

P.S.:

Some years later Tom offered that relatively easy to play number to a young student, because he hoped that here a relevant work of art with far-reaching statement could be promoted to youth by friendly support. Worth to cheer. The student spontaneously jumped up and admitted – so he realized that it was not new to her:
"This is indeed the best song ever."

with tears