The service went on...

He considered the array of worthies who'd turned out for Angela. I've caused the death (non-deliberately, he stressed to himself) of somebody with her toes in many rivers.
Lately, the sewer-scribblers had served up an eye-witness account of George Douglas Grant from a time when stickysitu.com was a mere gleam in his eye; a dream not ready, yet, to get beyond the cheap and nasty plastic of his, then, faux-designer shades. In those days, according to the sleaze slopped out by The Moon, younger George would haunt his local healthshop for days on end. The witness remembered seeing GDG, on many occasions, running into the HealthyVibes store in the Minusrat district, beseeching:
'Got any Codeine!?'
The girl who had seen all this was Jane Gaynor (now, not really a girl at forty-two). She'd worked in FotoLand across the aisle from HealthyVibes and recalled seeing, no less than seven times, the healthshop's able-limbed young employee Josef ushering George, politely but firmly, off the premises (Josef maintained his rude good health through a diet high in Jerusalem artichoke-a small, yellowish, white-root vegetable, as everyone knows).
What The Moon had failed to tell but The Asteroid had plastered all over their front page was the lurid detail of Jane Gaynor's subsequent career as a porn actress. She'd dished her dirt to The Moon (that most venerable organ...not!) in return for a fix of morphine and a minor payment. It had become a major embarrassment to The Moon's editor when this side of Jane became know to the citizenry.
Bloody tabloids, thought Todd, and then paid heed once more to the mass at hand.