The Sunday Papers

Sunday, 12 February 2017

The Sunday Papers

The Sunday Newspapers ©

By Michael Casey

Well its Sunday 12^th Feb, just in case you are keeping track of these conversations. I’m having a look at the newspapers on the Internet, that way I don’t get black newsprint all over my fingers nor all over our carpet. There is a feel to paper, a nice feel, having worked in a print room for years it is something I know a little about. Getting loads of leaflets through our letter box also adds to the paper feel experience. I am missing something just by using the Internet for my newspaper experience, and experience is the over used word that sales people use. Though they all hate being called sales, as it’s such a common word. They are all customer service people.

Justin is singing in the background, Timberlake is a strange name for a plumber, but he is very good even if he chews his strawberry bubble while he works. He’s pulling his waders on, he’s going to go into our septic tank to sort out the blockage we have, his 24 hour service is really good, and his prices are reasonable, it’s just his singing that puts some people off.

Back to newspapers, I’ve give Justin a cup of tea with honey in, he cannot do a thing until he’s had his tea, so let’s leave Justin Timberlake in his waders in our septic tank while I read the newspapers. The newspapers have so much celebrity news in them especially on a Sunday, Justin has to explain it to me once he’s gotten his waders off and I’ve thrown 3 buckets of luke warm water over him, with a hint of Jeyes Fluid included.

Today a woman who was a man is having triples, which is what he/she always wanted, though she has split from her partner because he has left her for an opportunity to appear on a reality tv show, based in a meat processing factory. Meet the Meat it is so interestingly titled. Justin says he’ll definitely be watching, he doesn’t have many friends because he is always on call with his plunger and waders. I feel sorry for him, I know a nice girl who works in the chip shop I may introduce them, it’ll be perfect for Valentine’s Day.

Back to the newspapers, somebody who spent 29 days in the outside loo is being given an award by the Guinness book of records, not because of the 29 days, but because he only used one roll of economy Tesco toilet paper. See the newspapers are really full of *&^% and you get an award for it. In the old days yesterdays’ newspapers were used to wrap up fish and chips, or cut up and used as tissue paper in the outside bog.

There is a bit of Politics in the newspapers too, right wing, left wing and confused all have their opinions and spread all over the Sunday Press. Somebody who once was a nobody, pontificates about this and that, and though he/she has never been elected they are an expert on this or is it that and given a half page spread, because they were at school with the publisher. This means the editor does what he is told.

Twitter is a goldmine for newspapers, not just because of Mr Trump, it just is free info that the newspapers can repeat and not have to pay journalists to find out. The new thing is the Slap Down on Twitter, where Mrs X slaps down Mr Z. Or so the headlines scream, as if WWIII is about to begin. Mr Z declares that red wine is served with fish and chips, and the ever so viscous slap down from Mrs X is that she serves malt vinegar herself, and it is so so much cheaper. Then you have the war between them over it.  

For me this is so so boring, vacuous people are given miles and miles of ink and photos. New material is given no space, if you look at several papers as I do you can see the sea of ink circulating, much ado about nothing as my mate Will Shakespeare might say. Will and Justin are going to double date the chip shop girl and the girl from the cobblers, I managed to get them a table at the table at the local kebab shop and restaurant. I taught the manager English a few years ago, so he’s squeezing them in for Valentines, and they’ll get free garlic bread.     

Yes, I am jealous of all the free coverage for the vacuous and reality tv wannabes, if only there was space online or on the radio for some of my 1,000,000 words. But maybe being me isn’t enough, I have to be more photogenic and have absolutely no talent except a smile and a cleavage. Should I show off by bypass scar with a shirt opened to the navel? Ok I’ll do it, if I can get my teeth fixed then I really will be a star, for 15 minutes as Andy Warhol said when I met him in Aldi last week.