*sigh* It's come to something, it really has. Time was when journalists sat around and chortled about coming up with a wizard wheeze for April Fool to try and trick unwary readers. It was the kind of jolly jape that went along with "You are the Mirrorman and I claim my 10 shillings" and that kind of thing. Simpler days, those, when journalists could concoct April Fool silliness or hide on Brighton beach rather than be sat at a desk ctrl+C and ctrl+Ving press releases.
No longer. It says something for the laziness, crapness and downright rubbishness of modern newspapers that journalists aren't even doing their own April Fool stuff but are having to had it forcefed to them by PR companies, like Robert Morley's dogs being stuffed down his gob in Theatre of Blood. I think it also says something about dwindling staff numbers. I'm sure there was a time when there were enough journalists to go around and make up fun stuff on their own. Now... no, we need oven-ready rubbish from PR companies.
Like this shit in the Mail today. Oh, ho ho, it's Jacqui Smith outside a naughty undies shop. Titter, innit?! Today's reading comprehension: how many changes did the desk-chained hack make to this Ann Summers press release?
In sober suit and clutching a bright carrier bag, could this really be the Home Secretary emerging from one of the saucier High Street stores?
In this week of all weeks, some might say she'd be a fool not to treat herself to a little retail therapy.
And considering her husband's rather adventurous viewing habits, Jacqui Smith would be perfectly justified in showing her own broad-minded streak. Ann Summers offers everything from naughty maid's outfits to fluffy handcuffs.
I'm guessing not a great deal. What do you think?
Then there's the new Flora Poli range for those really wanting to spice things up at home.
Do you see what they've done there? Apart from getting a free bit of advertising from a national newspaper, I mean.