The Sun and British Nationalists (Nazis)
The second of my daily blogs is today written in a sort of psychological retort I suppose.
For contextual purposes; a couple of weeks ago I declared a purchase embargo upon myself for the Sun newspaper - primarily due to the sensational fury the ongoing front page headlines concerning Kate Middleton (her hat, her sister, pretty much any minisule detail the Sun could find to promote her impending wedding) and Kate McCann (Maddie's hat, Maddie's sister, pretty much any miniscule detail the sun could find to promote her impending book) had been continually subjecting me to.
In the interests of clarity, I will make clear that I am not completely condemning these two news stories as un-newsworthy, however I do dispute the sheer volume of time, effort and press coverage that has been devoted to two stories which have now been more dragged out than a dog's arse on a new carpet.
"Alas", I hear you cry, "these are perfectly worthy front page fodder!"
To prove my point I refer you to Article #1 - the Tuesday 20th April edition of the Sun which bore the front page headline "Which tiara will she (Kate Middleton) choose?"
Now, I was already fed up with the Royal Wedding saga, but this was now becoming ridiculous. Unfortunately, my horror failed to cease there as I then discovered on page 32 the remarkable story of the discovery of 'The God Particle' buried within what could be no more than ten lines of printed text. Professor Brian Cox (a respected Physician) claimed of a breakthrough which may have discovered the original source of all life as we know it. How the Sun could therefore deem a future Duchesses' choice of headwear more important than this I will never truly understand! I mean, I am far from a religious follower or even believer, but I damn sure know that this kind of discovery is timeless and could change the course of all existence. The Sun preferred to plug the taxpayer-funded £7million wedding of Wills and Kate. Do I need say any more? Considering the dire financial straits we are constantly badgered about by Government, splashing millions on two already wildly rich royals seems a tad silly.
I honestly could not give a monkey's about the Royal Family (bar the one day I was within feet of the actual Queen when stumbling through Sheffield city centre, hungover) and I surely cannot be the only one?
But it is not for this motive alone that I base my spited view of the Sun upon. To be fair I began to but it on a regular basis for two genuinely hilarious columns - Frankie Boyle on a Friday, and Jeremy Clarkson on a Saturday (and to an extent this is still my primary reasoning for betraying my Sun amnesty). I should also here give honourable mention to Mr. Andy Totham (the source of the Sun's daily sports betting tips via "Tot's Tips) for my regular readership, becoming hooked on his inside-track knowledge after backing JT at 22/1 to score for England in a Euro Qualifier based on his "Longshot of the Day". With this item occuring daily, I soon did the maths and calculated that for just 30p investment per day in the newspaper, I could make a tidy profit from following Mr. Totham. Unfortunately, it soon came to light that "Tot's Tips" weren't all they were cracked up to be, finding myself reading the article with scepticism and angst as opposed to my previous awe.
Anyway, I had now become a bonafide daily investor in the Sun, and in my mind a major stakeholder, therefore to get my money's worth I would systematically scan each page for interesting stories and articles (back-to-front of course for the sport). However, it was in doing this where my general annoyance of the Sun's morals rapidly evolved into a far more substantiated loathing of their self-righteous, vindictive and spite-ridden content.
In the interest of presenting hard evidence, listed below is just a small cross-section of topics/groups regularly criticised by the Sun newspaper:
- Teachers
- Nurses
- Police
- Students (particularly the Oxbridge elite)
- Labour, Lib Dems and any non-Conservatives
- Banks
- Bankers
- Footballers
- Cheats (love, sport, general)
- The Guardian
- The BBC
- Unemployed
- Big companies (Tesco!)
In contrast, the following groups are heavily promoted and praised;
- The Army
- Themselves
- Page 3 Girls
- Themselves
- BSkyB (another Rupert Murdoch venture)
- British Nationalists/Extremists/Themselves
You catch my drift. The Sun's pig-headed, polarised view of the world harbours inappropriate nostalgic perceptions of society (and the world as a whole) and therefore peddles outrage and discontent amongst the lower classes wherever it can. Well, this is at least the surface layer of the daily drivel which is recylced and repackaged by contributors (not writers!), but beneath lies the beating heart of Rupert Murdoch's quest for omnipotence in the press world. He reminds me of that bad guy in James Bond: Tomorrow Never Dies (1998), I think his name's Elliott Tarver? Anyway it's Terri Hatcher's hubby, that bloke. He is the pantomime Rupert Murdoch I suppose.
On a lighter note, there are also many more smaller issues (which are fairly comical) which still manage to infuriate me beyond recussitation:
1) Page 3 Girl thought of the day: No I am not a pervert, and yes I do actually read the thought bubbles which are grafted above the airbrushed heads of the 17-year-old Barbies, however it is always pretty horrific (take that as you will). From quoting famous historical philosophers to illustrate the importance of healthy school meals, to using JFK for demonstrating why the military deserve free bus passes (tissue-paper thin arguments). My particular favourite though is reserved for one 22-year-old model's damning criticism of an image the Sun printed of Cambridge University students drinking in a local park. I forget the exact quote (it wasn't something Aristotle-y), but the basic jist was that the topless page 3 girl thought that if Oxbridge students spent less time drinking, and more time studying, then the country may have avoided it's current financial/social plight. Now personally I tend to disagree with this right-wing nonsense, but hey, who am I to question the credentials and ideals of a girl who's qualifications comprise two Double D's and a quote from a fortune cookie...??
2) Duncan MacKenzie: Before I begin fully ranting about this bloke, please allow me to firstly just say that I hate ALL Sun columnists equally (beside Friday Boyle and Saturday Clarkson); from Lorraine Kelly (the feminist's Superman and/or woman) to Anita Something-or-other who without fail manages to hammer the white lower-, middle- and upper-classes with accusations of racism and discrimination (normally based on the evidence of the existence of Baa Baa Black Sheep and Bing Crosby's White Christmas) - both of said articles I could, and probably will, write another entire article about. Dear old Duncan though is a particular pet-peeve of mine and I shall need to blog my most recent encoounter with his preaching to fully depict his disgusting sliminess.
HEADLINE - "We Bash Tesco Bullies"
This was the genuine title of a 30-line article which seethed venom in reponse to an innocuous incident which occurred at a Tesco Petrol Filling Station, the aftermath of which cost a head office CSA her job. Duncan had received a letter from an irrate reader who had taken her car through the local wash, only to return home from the supermarket to find it badly dented (I know the feeling, I left my car in a car park at Tesco before around dozens of other banged up motors before and noticed a dent when I got back - bloody car washes!). She immediately responded by phoning Tesco Head Office seeking compensation for her damaged car, which had been inexplicably battered beyond repair by a soft, giant brush (or two). The Customer Services Assistant politely asked the lady to write a letter to them detailing exactly what had happened and they would subsequently launch an investigation (sounds fair enough, right?), but instead the woman wrote a letter of disgust to Dear Duncan whining that greedy capitalist Tesco had not only written-off her car but also breached her human rights (or something as crazy as that). In response, Duncan grabbed a handful of his equally bullish cohorts from the Sun, to whinge, pester and barrate Tesco Head Office until they received a formal apology, £800 compensation and the head of the disrespectful Customer Service Assistant on a silver platter with an apple in her mouth (ok slight exaggeration, but far less brutal than just adding an extra one to the unit column of the unemployment statistics. Well done guys, job well done!
3) Sun Employment: Claims to be the single-most force in recession busting, by offering apprenticeships to crackheads, chavs and criminals (preferrably all three) and then boasting by quoting the Chancellor George Osbourne's ludacrous praise every day, accompanied by the graphic of a medal/trophy/sash. Unpalatably pathetic.
4) Al Murray: Unfunny (not a great start for a comedian), and fills in for Frankie Friday every now and again when the Jock's due a jolly - lame subsitute, 'nuff said.
5) Blaming Gordon Brown for everything: Yes, he was an imbecile, but to be fair he inherited a pig of a step-child with Britain, so lay-off the guy (he's on suicide watch as it is!). After all, David Cameron is far from what I would call the Third Coming!
I feel as though I've ranted for long enough now so just to summise; the Sun is an evil publication reminiscent of Hitler-esque propaganda which brainwashes the lower/middle-classes with extremist ideaologies and naiive values of citizenship, sounds like a mouthful but the examples I've cited illustrate it pretty clearly. Soon I'll do an article entitled "Should Soldiers Be Paid The Same As Professional Footballers?" (SPOILER ALERT - the answer is no, they shouldn't), wherein my argument is validated by more recent anecdotes from my encounters with drunk people on benches. If two guys personified the Sun's nationalist incompetence and garishness, these were them. But that tale shall be saved for another time. I know it's not like me, but I have strong views on the issue and therefore too much to be tagged onto the end of another rambling argument.
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