It could be argued that, in our cynical consumer age, newspapers are one of the few remaining items that represent ‘value for money’. The problem is that you only ever read about ten pence’s worth of the sixty-five you had to lay-out in the first place. If you’re clever and socially minded, you read your paper from front to back. If you’re a man it’s the other way round.
People with time and money can look at a Newspaper stand as a menu offering a three-course meal. The Times is the stodgy main, The Mirror the guilty pudding and The Daily Mail a tooth-pick to prise irritating minorities out from between your teeth.
Most people prefer the tabloids because there’s more about celebrities, less about Venezuela and the puns are funnier – although walking around campus, a copy of The Guardian does more to enhance your reputation for left-wing intellectualism then The Daily Sport.
There is a misconception in this country that Rupert Murdoch’s The Sun is the newspaper with the widest circulation. It is actually The Metro. The Metro can be found on the floor of every bus, train and tram left open at the ‘60 Second Interview’ feature with half a muddy foot-print stamped over it. It is essentially an feat of eclectic plagiarism that renders all non-free dailies impotent.
They say that the scope of human thought first expands, then gradually decreases. That is why we go from reading about Middle Earth as children, to Planet Earth as teenagers, to Britain as adults, to the ‘Pocklington Post’ as seniors.
