Thursday, 1 October 2009

The Oldham Echo-Mind Control to Major Tom.

When you stand back and watch the antics, of people acting as responsible journalists, it seems all the more surreal that the public have become accustomed to accepting what they are told. Most of our local journos, who in normal life are lightweight no-marks, who seem to don this cap of unchallenged superiority the moment they walk into Oldham Hall Street. It is strange. Yesterday it was a Liverpudlian who tore up the Sun at the Labour party conference, the day after they declare that they will not support the Labour Party. I have never read the Sun since Hillsborough. You know every time I read the Oldham Echo, which is not very often, I want to tear it up.
To have such an conglomerate of hard working people promoting our city in Oldham Hall Street who are led by educated idiots who are running the paper is a disgrace. It is not surprising that some working there have a gripe against their own papers that they produce for. I think that the pride has gone and they know they are only producing tomorrows chip paper.
I once said to a senior journalist at the Daily Ghost when he asked me "Who do you think you are" this was because I dared to question the Daily Ghost, because I can see right through those smoking mirrors.
I will tell you a little story I heard from Bob Hope, that he told it in the 80s on a TV show that I watched, and I have never forgotten it.
He was asked by Parkinson if I recall, how he had lasted so long in the business.
"I owe all my success to a New York Taxi Driver" he declared to a bemused Parky.
"Very early in my journey I had sold out at (I think) the Radio City Music Hall" he said "I was brilliant, I was on fire, I brought the house down. The next day, I got in a cab and said to the driver take me to the local paper, I saw him looking at the me in the mirror and confident as ever knew being famous he recognised me, suddenly he spoke"
"You were rubbish last night"
"What! I said no you are getting me confused with someone else"
"No I am not he replied calmly"
"How do you know" I said getting worried.
"I was there in the audience at the Music Hall and I can tell you you were rubbish"
"Yes and who do you think you are the New York Times Theatre Critic, Ha" I laughed and he said to me ever so calmly.
"I will tell you who I am, Mr Hope, my name is Joe...Joe Public and I am one of those people who buy tickets and pay your wages, and you were rubbish".
"I was shocked" Bob said "But I gave him a tip. But I can say I owe the secret of my success to Joe the Taxi driver who put me in my place and made me realise it is he who put me where I am, I was humbled"
I told the journalist at the Daily Post this story and as if he didn't understood my reasoning, I told him in conclusion "I will tell you who I am, Joe Public, the one who doesn't buy your paper because it is not very good"
He glared at meas if I had hurt him.
Although he seemed to be aware of my little proverb, or so I thought.
Disappointingly he did not really take that much notice because the both local papers are still trading in the same old mind control of Joe Public, who are buying less and less fish and chips these days so the need for the Oldham printing presses are diminishing.
Perhaps its now that people are able to exercise their views and we don't have to be spoon fed anymore.
When you are out of a job remember, I did tell you your paper is rubbish.

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