The Papers.

It would seem that I've been a little bit naive.

See, until I started reading the rather fantastic Tabloid Watch, Enemies of Reason and Angry Mob, I pretty much assumed that the papers weren't as bad as people made out. I mean, they couldn't be, could they? Surely, if they really were as full as blatantly made up bollocks, people would pick up on it, and there'd be complaints, and the paper would be forced to apologise... Wouldn't they?

Wouldn't they?

Wouldn't they?

Huh, looks like the people who's job it is to inform the good people of this country are a bunch of wankers. Who'd have thought?

In seriousness though: OH FUCK!

Seriously, how are we supposed to go about our day to day lives with the media so willing to lie to us? I know that this is a very old topic that's been discussed by anyone who matters at one time or another, but I don't think people realise just how much shit the papers spread (For a rough estimation, imagine a farmer fertilising his fields with manure. Then double it. Then heap a load more shit on top of that. And triple that).

The problem is, if you're anything like me, you're either far too busy, far too lazy, or a combination of the two to actually research the stories the papers present to you - You haven't got time to look back at last Thursday's Star to find out what they thought about the latest immigration figures; all you know is what the papers have told you today, which is that THE STREETS ARE FULL OF THEM LOT AND THEY'RE GOING TO NUKE US ALL.

Of course, if you read the story through and actually check the details yourself it's plain to see that it's bollocks, but consider the main readership of the Star: Generally, we're talking blokes who have very little time for things that aren't whistling, calling women "love" and adjustable spanners - And as a result their opinion on the world is generally based round the headlines, which often read like JORDAN: ARAB SEX BOMB PLOT, which could be about an explosion in a whorehouse in the middle east, the script for Katie Price's inadvised Bhangra musical being leaked, or possibly just a collection of buzzwords lumped together to make people buy the paper. After all, I think it's fair to say that the editors of this tat couldn't give two lustrous turds whether or not the content within the pages of their publication is decent, just so long as there's words vomited carelessly on the front page that are either relate to darkies, cancer or famous bits being put in other famous bits - The exception of course being the Express, which would rather give it's main story to a cup of tea than a war widow - Because they know that daft fuckers will buy it and take it as gospel.

Speaking of daft fuckers, the daftest fuckers of all, in my opinion at least, are the columnists who write for these tat rags. Reading the literary piddle of people like Littlejohn and Amanda Platell, one gets the distinct impression that every week all they do is flick through the headlines of their 'home' publication, repeat the headlines verbatim, throw in a few "jokes", thinly disguised calls for militantism or blatant hypocrisy, then spunk it into a few hundred words an hour or so before deadline, email it to the office, and carry on deciding which pile of money they'd like to shove up their big ignorant arses this afternoon. "You couldn't make it up", as Littlejohn would say, after reading pages of (quite often demonstrably) bollocks in the paper that pay him nearly a million a year to be a little volcano of hate.