Paddy O'Flynn had had enough it seems. He had decided to apply to his local housing authority for help with his rent having vacated his old house and moved into a rented apartment in Clapham Common, South London. That is where his troubles began.
His wife Caitlin takes up the story.
"They sent him a form to fill in. It was thick as the London Times. For three months he tried to figure it out. We found it hard to make ends meet during that period as the rent is very expensive here.
"Paddy would sit for days with his glasses on and a dictionary on his knee. He wasn't the type to give in. Sometimes he never bothered to come to bed. But, he just could not get the information they wanted.
"They wanted a full history of his employment from the age of nineteen for instance, names of employers, when he started work and when he left, how much he had earned; why he left his places of employment, what countries he had visited, how long he had stayed, reasons for his going there, all his previous addresses, how much money we had, how often we visited an ATM, what books Paddy read, who had lived with him at any time, for how long, etc, etc.
"Wanted copies of the annulment papers of his two previous marriages signed by a magistrate, his medical history signed by a doctor, his income at present, his family, who they were, what they did, how much they earned, where they lived, how long had they lived there, how often the visited us.... it went on and on and on, and on.
"Often he would simply burst into tears. Poor Paddy, I could see he was about to crack. When he got to the request for a sample of his blood he just flipped."
Mrs. O'Flynn, fighting back her tears, was unable to continue with the story.
Facts are, when Paddy "flipped" he grabbed a loud hailer from a second hand store and took the tube to Trafalgar Square where he was seen pissing on one of the lions and thence to Westminster. On the steps of the House of Commons he announced to the world that he had a bomb attached to his chest and that he was going to ...
"Blow the f%$%##! shit house to kingdom come!"
A large crowd gathered and then the police arrived with a special SAS bomb disposal squad. Paddy was shouted at to...
"Lay face down and put your hands behind your head!!"
He laughed, gave the fingers to all and turned to enter the building whereupon he was gunned down in a hail of bullets."
Nothing was found on him but six empty bottles of Coca Cola taped to his waist and underneath his shirt the voluminous form that had caused him and his wife so much grief.
Bureaucracy had murdered Paddy Flynn.
"As pensioners we were only looking for what we were entitled to having slaved all our lives... £20 a week housing benefit to help us survive. I do not know why they needed to know all that stuff. At least now, he has found peace, which is all he ever wanted really."