YOU THINK YOU can trust newspapers to do the right thing. You think the media has its priorities in order. And then you discover that your name is only 67th on a recently discovered document, putting you well behind Dannii Minogue and lots of dead people’s relatives on a list of top snoop targets.
It’s simply scandalous. I mean, what do dead people need publicity for? It’s not like they can strike a deal with Versace, now is it? Gah.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the British nanny goat state has decided to get rid of proper news reporting altogether. How will I improve on my low placing now? How will I get past that missing girl?
All this fuss about hacking is well stupid. Do I look bothered that some smart, enterprising reporters have been listening in on the Royal Family’s private conservations? Well, d’uh, how else would I get to read about them? If journalists are not there to rifle through Beyoncé’s bins and hack into Tiger Woods’s messages, then what are they for? Obituaries and business reports? Ew.
I don’t want to read about recession and priest rape 24/7. I want to read real news about real people like slinky Sienna Miller and naughty Steve Coogan. I don’t want to see dull photographs of courthouses and parliamentary buildings; I want to see if Katie Holmes exposes some cellulite on her private beach.
Would we have known that Cheryl and Ashley got back together at that birthday barbeque if some professional had not been there to put in the hours and follow them around for the weekend? We might still be languishing in ignorance and speculation as we speak.
What the spoilsports need to understand is that this is the news we want and what’s more, this is the news we deserve. We want weight gain on the front of Heat magazine. We want Octomom not doing so well. We want whatever story Jen’s “close friend” has just made up in a desperate attempt to keep her name linked with Brangelina.
Famous people become famous with the understanding that we, their adoring public, will be interested in their every move and utterance. That’s the deal.
Oh, they complain and tell everyone that sex tape was “leaked”. Oh, they tell you they didn’t know about the microphone under the waterbed or the long lens on the opposite property.
But who wouldn’t want to see their face plastered across the newspapers everyday? Who wouldn’t feel joy at knowing that the public cared about their drug and sex addiction rehab? It’s time to have a serious conservation about the ethics of journalism. Bring back the news!