Opinion by Mail columnist Ian Midgley.
Today was always set to be a battle of ideologies, of two vehemently opposed sides who hated each other with a passion.
On one side, the followers of a world figure of iron renown. On the other, an anti-establishment army that despised everything the iron one stood for.
The two were set to meet in London and fireworks, drama and no small amount of soul-searching would, no doubt, follow.
It would all come together in one single flashpoint, a carefully choreographed public show lasting no more than two hours – during which time the battle for the moral high ground would be fought.
The sound of breaking glass, fury and impassioned speeches would no doubt have mingled with some softer, more tender, moments.
But none of that's going to happen anymore as they've postponed the Iron Man 3 premiere because there's some funeral on.
Iron Man has made way for the Iron Lady.
Oh the iron-y.
Now Robert Downey Jr and his really cool goatee will have to strut the red carpet in Leicester Square tomorrow night because no self-respecting Hollywood superstar wants to be caught up in a riot.
Iron Man's latest nemesis, a mullet haired Swampy looky-likey called The Mandarin – played by the bloke who used to be Gandhi – wouldn't have looked out of place among the crowds at the Thatcher's Dead party in Trafalgar Square, last Saturday.
Actually, Gandhi might have beefed up the menace among the usual collection of sad anarchists, nutjobs and the generally deluded who turn up to rage against the machine at every opportunity going – whether someone's dead or not.
They can turn up to these shindigs because most of them haven't got jobs to go to. And so here we are. The end of an era.
By the time you've read this, Maggie Thatcher may well be 6ft under.
There will probably be lots of eulogising, lots of chanting, some idiots wearing scarves for masks will probably smash the window of a Starbucks somewhere – scaring the crap out of the minimum wage waitress inside – because, like, that's fighting the power, innit? The clueless class warriors will retreat to their pits – or more likely daddy's second country home in Bedfordshire – to start planning for Tony Blair's funeral. Peace will be restored.
I haven't got a crystal ball (it's just the way I walk) but I bet I'm not a million miles off.
And, hopefully, that will be the end of it, because, let's face it, Maggie Thatcher's death has been totally overblown. Yes, she was a divisive figure.
Yes, a lot of people truly loathed her. Yes, she become a bogeyman for the left; the hatred of her policies – both real and imagined – but the fallout from her passing has escalated into a mass hysteria Kim Jong-Un can only dream of.
Really, isn't it a bit much to be having mini-riots to celebrate the death of an octogenarian and to be gleefully propelling Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead into the top ten?
I personally find it quite amusing that every time an old trot hands over 99p to download the Ding Dong song, they're lining the pockets of corporate behemoth Sony.
Yeah. Take that, capitalism.
It's what she would have wanted.
I agree totally that the former PM shouldn't have been granted what is a basically a state funeral by the back door. We didn't given one to Ted Heath or Harold Wilson, so why waste £10m giving one to Thatcher?
Granted, Churchill got one – but he was Iron Man to Hitler's Mandarin and fully deserved it.
But, equally, I really don't understand all the bandwagon-jumping where every malcontent and his dog (on a string) is blaming Thatcher for everything from pit closures to the disappointing new series of Doctor Who.
Great. She's dead. Let's go out and start a fight with some coppers who probably weren't even born when she was ousted from power.
To me, it just smacks of a paucity of ideas, intellect and morals.
When your first course of action is to go out and cause trouble, then you've already lost the argument.
Fine, if you really hated her, go out and make a dignified protest, sign a petition, do what 1,000 Smith & Nephew workers did in Hull in 1980 when they walked out minutes after the then-PM stepped foot in their factory, but don't go out and dance gracelessly on someone's grave.
I won't be watching the funeral today. I've had my fill of Iron Lady- toadying and bashing.
Instead I'm off to shave my stubble into a really cool Robert Downey Jr-style goatee beard ready for my next trip to the cinema.
