Just a reminder to all that the Silly Season is here and – if you’re not already carping the diem – it’s time to dust off all those rubbish stories that would never make the cut in a million years normally, and get them out there! There’s acres of gaping media void to be filled and we, the few, have a duty to fill it.
This morning – and OK, it was one of those terrible free papers (but somehow so much closer to the zeitgeist than your average broadsheet, d’you not think?) – there was a story (‘story’) about someone on holiday in Great Yarmouth (I think, could have been Skegness – it doesn’t matter – seaside town anyway) sending a postcard to someone at home in the West Country. On looking at the photo, a view of the seafront, taken over a decade ago, the recipient discovered it included images of her and her daughters, sat on a park bench! What are the chances! Cue much mumbling in astonishment and small-world commentary.
(The fact that the person sending the card sent it because they knew the recipient was a fan of the seaside town, and had visited, at peak season, many years on the trot, and that she and her daughters often sat on the same bench, does actually reduce the chances considerably, but never let logic get in the way of a good story.)
Yes – the silly season’s here. I even read a story about some guy – Peter, I think – who’s managed to become the most powerful man in the country, without going through the boring rigmarole of being elected, or with any form of public consent or (indeed) knowledge at all!
Amazing the old nonsense that gets printed.
thewordmonger 