Saturday, 21 July 2012


Our Man really doesn't want to be the sanctimonious ass, but seems it's a role he has no choice but to play. And he's quite good at it, even if he says so himself. Well, he gets so much practice.

The above story (screen grabbed from the Irish Independent before it gets deleted like the original was) didn't offend Our Man exactly -- Lord knows he's been ordered to write worse in his years as an ink-stained wretch. He knows exactly how such tripe gets produced -- there's a big story and the editor wants every angle covered. The deputy editor knows he is a talentless brown-noser but has to justify his inflated salary somehow, so orders that panels be written. Ooh, there's a Batman angle to the massacre! Do a panel on The Curse of Batman! Tasteless? Utter, utter horseshit? Doesn't matter, just do it, if you know what your job's worth...

Our Man knows exactly what that job is worth. Nothing. That the story was written by the Daily Telegraph, a broadsheet, with sub-editors and layers of pros who are supposed to ensure quality... and this gets through... well. They will bleat it's the internet's fault because they've had to skimp on their sub-editors to compete with the semi-pro hacks out there. Our Man doesn't buy this argument. Shite like this gets through not despite the system, but because of it.

Our Man has long argued that the time is up for newspapers, but today he finally sees the myth of the gatekeeper as bastion of quality is just that: a toothless myth. So, to hell with The Telegraph. To hell with the gatekeepers.

Newspapers, your time is up. It's time we the people wrote our own journalism. Now, if you'll excuse Our Man, he's gonna do just that RIGHT HERE.

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