Enemies of Reason Poundshop potshots at the media moral maze.

The Joy of Socks (or: ‘Lost on Gilligan’s Island’)

Toadlike sucker of Lord Rothermere's chubby chequebook Andrew Gilligan has once again been popping on the socks of puppetry, it would appear. Honestly, I kind of thought he'd almost got away with it a bit, albeit with a roastingly nonsensical explanation about automated web searches, the last time the Tory Troll called him out for writing comments on stories about him.

But now it seems he's been at it again. Oh dear. Oh dear indeed. Isn't it rather embarrassing for London's premier quality newspaper (sorry, that should be 'Bag of shite lifestyle bollocks with very little or no news coverage in it whatsoever, especially not about London, and even if it is about London, it certainly won't be about any part of London other than Westminster, Kensington or the City - unless it's something trying to make out that black kids are responsible for all stabbings and muggings ever, obviously') to have one of its most delightfully remunerated employees behaving like a dimwitted teenager?

A timely reminder, perhaps, that 300 or so jobs are earmarked for destruction at Associated Newspapers. Where - oh where? - would be a better place to start than to slip a P45 into the jammy nonshorthandwriting fingers of Gilligan and send him on his way with a cheery smile and a wave? As he cries into the binbag on his way down the fire escape, he could reflect on the karmic impact of his clumsy shit journalism having brought down a perfectly competent BBC regime and allowed Alastair Campbell to crow on television as if he'd just broken the bank at the fucking Monte Carlo casino perhaps having some bearing on the low esteem in which journalists currently find themselves while they're making their way to the Job Club to try and retrain as pipe welders. And how that might affect his chances of ever finding gainful employment again.

Ah, but that's a dream, I'm afraid. Gilligan almost certainly won't be making his way to join the boys and girls at Job Centre Plus any time soon. Sure, he's a fucking shit journalist, but look at it this way: he writes exactly what the London Mail want him to, he's always nice about Boris, he got rid of that nasty Ken and, well, that'll do nicely.

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Related posts:

1. Pull your socks up
2. Andrew Gilligan: it all looks rather tragic
3. Gilligan: Maybe the best thing to do would be to shut up
4. Let’s not Gilligang up on him
5. Discredited, disappointing, disgraceful, dishonest