Tabloid newspapers are one of my favourite topics to rant about for many reasons, the main one being that they do not contain any real news.
How can a tabloid newspaper actually call itself a newspaper if it doesn't actually contain any real news? The editors of these rags claim that they really do.
I disagree and that makes the following statement absolutely true:
Tabloid newspapers are rubbish.
In the UK we have a few of these tabloids who seem to focus more and more on the cult of celebrity with virtually nothing about what is really happening in the world today – unless it is something of ground shattering importance like a war breaking out.
There are many reasons I really do not want to be famous but chief among them is the fear I have of having my face splashed all over the tabloids because I had an argument with a man in a pub or because a sick minded member of the paparazzi felt a desperate urge to follow me to the Caribbean just so that he could take long distance photos of my arse as I changed into my swim trunks for a dip in the ocean, or worse, my man boobs.
Can you imagine the headline?
Fat Mancunian shows the world his pimply arse.
The problem is that I simply wouldn’t want the world to see my arse. I wouldn’t inflict that sight on anybody. And this would be the prime reason for hiding away on a reclusive beach in Barbados miles away from anybody – except that dickhead with the zoom lens of course.
I realise that some people buy these rags because they enjoy the witty puns and comedic stories about people nobody cares about. The saddest thing of all, to me at least, is the fact that there are thousands of thick people who actually believe what they read in these.
What surprises me more is the fact that these people can actually read in the first place.
Do people want to know that a famous golfer might split up with his girlfriend? Are they really interested in a picture of a Premiership footballer’s wife wearing torn denim hot pants and a very revealing bikini? Does anybody care that Prince Harry might pop to Glastonbury or that David Bowie’s new outfit makes him look like an old man (hardly surprising really since he genuinely is 66 years old)?
Personally I don’t give a shit about any of these stories and seeing a news headline about a female celebrity having a nervous breakdown because of her cellulite is not going to make me hand over my hard earned cash to the publishers so that they can spend it on yet more sordid photos of other celebrities getting their kits off on a beach somewhere.
How these rags can claim that they are “number one for news” is beyond me because they simply do not contain any news of note.
What’s worse is that sometimes the so-called news they write about is in fact totally false or simply speculation that is written in such a way that gullible readers actually believe it.
How can they get away with it?
Imagine again, if I were famous and went to a restaurant for a coffee with an old female friend.
The headline might read:
You Dirty Rat: Love rat Plastic Mancunian romances blonde beauty in high class London night spot
Plastic Mancunian, the world famous blogger who loves to call readers of this newspaper “thick arses”, has been spotted wining and dining a mysterious blonde beauty in Coffers restaurant, leading to speculation that his fifteen year relationship with Mrs PM is on the rocks. Meals at Coffers cost as much as £250 and Plastic Mancunian wasted no time in spending a fortune on the new woman in his life. Friends and acquaintances fear the worst having seen our exclusive pictures of the dirty low down scheming womanizer kissing her on the cheek with a gentle hug.
And this is why such rags are utter rubbish.
How they manage to get away with it is beyond me. If I had the power, I would ban them all.
They are the reason why people seem to be obsessed with trashy television, trashy music and trashy celebrities some of whom are simply famous for being famous and nothing more.
I feel sorry for genuine people whose names are dragged through these tabloids in sensationalised stories based on photographs taken by paparazzi, stooping to new depths to get that exclusive long range shot of cellulite on the arse of an actress as she sunbathes with her husband on a yacht in the Bahamas.
Don’t just take my word for it. Judge for yourself. Here are today’s headlines from some of the British press:
From The Guardian – a real newspaper:
NSA spying claims threaten key EU-US trade pact.
General Practitioners told to charge non-Britons for NHS services.
Cameron and army divided over Afghanistan role after 2014.
From The Telegraph – another real newspaper:
EU demands explanation over US spying claim.
David Cameron: Pakistan must act tough on extremists.
Police launch manhunt after brutal slaying of mother of two.
Now these from The Sun – a tabloid:
Dog tired: Kim snapped for first time since having her baby – and she’s asleep.
([Ed]-The Kim in question is Kim Kardashian apparently)
Everton star in sex texting pics shame
([Ed] – Another footballer who few people care about)
Apprentice girl ex was pimp
([Ed] One of the contestants on this year's series of The Apprentice)
And another tabloid – The Mirror:
Cheryl Cole turns 30! Style disasters and glamour in pics.
([Ed] Why are people obsessed with Cheryl Cole?)
Andy Carroll lets hair down in Las Vegas night club
([Ed] Yet another Premiership footballer).
Prince Harry parties till 4am at Glastonbury after rocking out to Rolling Stones.
([Ed] So what?)
See what I mean?
What annoys me further (and yes there really is more) are the names that these tabloids have invented for people.
For example, Wayne Rooney, the Manchester United footballer, has become ROO so that the writers can concoct hilarious headlines with a maximum cringe factor such as:
What a Heroo!
I only have eyes for Roo.
Some of the headlines can be quite clever (although I still cringe and struggle to stop myself throwing up briefly in my mouth) – like this one from The Sun:
How do you solve a problem like Korea?
Gord help us now.
([Ed]- When Gordon Brown became Prime Minister).
And this one when a small Scottish football team called Inverness Caledonian Thistle (known as Cally) beat the best team in Scotland – Celtic:
Super Cally go ballistic, Celtic are atrocious
([Ed] For all his ranting – PM actually smiled at that one)
Finally, for your enjoyment after having read my ranting post, here are a few clever puns (not from newspapers) that may make you smile:
I know a guy addicted to brake fluid. He says he can stop any time.
When a clock is hungry it goes back four seconds.
I went to a seafood disco last week and pulled a mussel.
I’m reading a book about anti gravity. It’s impossible to put down.
And then there was the cross-eyed teacher who couldn’t control his pupils.
I used to be addicted to soap but I’m clean now.
The dead batteries were given out free of charge.
It was an emotional wedding. Even the cake was in tiers.
A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat.
The frustrated cannibal threw up his hands.
Yes – I know some of them are terrible.
And I apologise.