Few stories have penetrated the public psyche in Britain as deeply as the Baby P tragedy. For weeks, seething headlines have documented the calamitous series of events which led to the toddler's death.
As the public learned of the short and brutalised life of the 17-month-old at the hands of his mother, her boyfriend and a lodger, it flinched at revelations of myriad botched hospital and social worker visits in the lead up to his death, including by the doctor who examined him and failed to spot that he had a broken back and fractured ribs.
The case has not only lifted the curtain on the inadequacies of child protection in Britain, it has seared the public conscience to the core. Bit by bit, the last days of Baby P's life have fuelled debate on some of the most uncomfortable topics in modern British life.
Baby P's mother was unmarried, cohabiting with a partner and living off state benefits in one of the poorer parts of London.
Links to a so-called 'underclass' have been swift to follow: criticism of welfare dependency in Britain has been reignited and fingers have been pointed at Britain's eroding family structure.
A national thirst for answers beyond the psychology of child abuse has been palpable. Yet, as debate and outrage over the factors contributing to the toddler's death continue, a tidy elucidation looks achingly remote.
As the more right-wing editorials have sought to lay blame with Britain's underclass, academics have been quick to label the term outdated, irrelevant and out of step with modern society.
