There are also the “nuclear disaster” tourists who travel to Chernobyl,Hiroshima,Nagasaki and Fukushima to see first-hand the site of chilling destruction. There’s a haunting beauty about these places,as long as it’s possible to disconnect yourself from the reality of what such annihilation means.

Chernobyl has attracted many photographers and it’s still possible to visit,despite the war in Ukraine. Given that pregnant women aren’t allowed,you can’t sit on the ground or touch anything,and can’t eat or drink in the open air,it still seems a destination only for the hard-core.

If you’re keen,you can visit the Fukushima Exclusion Zone,although no one can get inside the nuclear power plant.

I’ve always been drawn to cemeteries,such as Pere Lachaise in Paris and Recoleta in Buenos Aires,both vast cities of the dead. And I’m not just fascinated by their famous residents (Oscar Wilde,Eva Peron). I love graves,whether they’re the musty,broken and sometimes sad burial plots of country churchyards or the impressive mausoleums of kings,queens and world leaders.

Is this dark tourism? I’m not sure,but it’s not voyeurism,more of a way of recognising my own mortality. It can be cathartic to stare into a grave and confront reality. The popularity of ghost stories shows that scaring ourselves can be therapeutic.

Then there were the clueless influencers who caused a social media backlash when they posed for smiley photos outside Auschwitz on the railway track that sent many thousands of people to their deaths.

That really does feel like dancing on the graves of the dead.

But wherever there’s tragedy people are going to be fascinated and people are always going to try to make a buck out of it.

Even contemporaneous events. The latest dark tourism destination is Wuhan.

I’m not sure exactly what the tourists are going to see. Nefarious scientists? Mutant chickens? But the compulsion to be a witness and put yourself in the centre of the story is stronger than ever.