I no longer watch the news. For the past twenty-one years (I assume I watched it upon birth) it has served as a never ending depressing soap opera of pain and misery. I ditched Eastenders for similar reasons.
I used to watch it as often as you could imagine. In the mornings, in the afternoons, in the evenings, and sometimes even at night. If I was having a really good week, I’d even watch ‘the Big Questions‘ with Nicky Campbell on Sunday mornings so I could get annoyed over each and every moral, ethical, and indeed religious issue that was raised.
“What do you do now?”, I hear you shout from behind your newspaper. Now, I bypass all news altogether. Once a day I will check online to see what’s going on – quickly concluding that I’m not bothered, and thus getting on with my life. The news is fucking miserable. I know it, you know it – even the newsreaders themselves know it. Nobody can ignore the look of pure joy and happiness that comes up on a newsreaders face as they begin the ‘And finally…’ story at the end of the bulletin.
“And finally… [smile] Smudge, a cheeky little cat from Dorset [bigger smile] caused havoc in his home town today when he escaped onto the roof of a local pub, eventually entering the building through it’s chimney! [joyful laugh]. Not to worry though, Smudge was soon rescued from the burning embers of his catastrophic[snorting laughter] adventure, and is set to make a full recovery [smiling down, at a monitor, most likely still featuring a photo of the cat - if another newsreader is present they will "Ahhh" in unison at this point]. Now, a reminder of tonight’s main headlines: [stern, emotionless, desperate sad face] We’re all going to die.”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting the news should be filled with “And finally…” stories. For one, that would be impossible – as nothing can finally happen for the first time – but more importantly; it would be shit. There are hundreds of stories like Smudge’s out there, and thousands more containing all forms of mangled animals as the star. Of course these stories don’t even have to be about animals, they could be about absolutely anything – as long as it’s shit and you can imagine a loner telling you all about it in the queue at the post office in all it’s fine tedious detail – it will fit the news.
I will not go on for hours about how the news is designed to scare you, to make everyday tasks fill you with apprehension and nerves, as we all know this already. If you want to dig deeper into the subject of depressing manipulative news, look no further than miserable writer Charlie Brooker with his downright brilliant show Newswipe. A thirty-minute compilation of the past two series can be seen here.
Instead I will offer a simple solution. A solution I chose a couple of months ago and haven’t looked back on since:
STOP WATCHING THE NEWS.
The news shouldn’t have to stop for me, for you, or for anybody else. Some could argue that it’s important – I’ll have to meet them halfway on that one. The news is a necessity, and we are lucky to have it for what it is – something that, much like a long-term girlfriend, we can dip in and out of whenever we please. Rather than starting your day with the news, start your day with music, or the radio (though try not to resent the radio too much when it starts to read you the news).
Take my advice, ditch the news. One by one, we will all cheer the fuck up.
Last night while making my way home on the bus we hit heavy traffic on Park Lane. This isn’t unusual, and therefore went unnoticed for five, maybe six minutes. Soon however, it began. The tutting.
It started off faintly… tut… tut… tut, but soon it became louder and more frequent, TUT, TUT, TUT, followed by sighs… TUT, TUT, TUT -SIGH-, TUT, TUT, TUT.
After sitting through about fifteen minutes of this, we rolled up alongside the cause of the traffic – a critically injured motorcyclist and a hysterical car-driver being comforted by the Police. And you know what I heard next? One single ‘tut’ from the man sitting next to me.
It got me thinking about how so many people feel like the world owes them something. What use does tutting do? In that particular example, if the driver of the bus gave all passengers the option to get off the bus and walk the remainder of their journey would they have? Sure, a few would – but the majority, even the ones who only had a couple of stops to go would have rather stayed on the bus, opting instead to spend half an hour complaining about missing Who Wants to be a Millionaire while a poor motorcyclist bleeds alongside them.
For a more light hearted example of people believing the world owes them something, see the below video of Louis C.K. – an American stand up comedian, talking about technology with Conan last year.
In summary, the world is neither with you or against you. It’s owes you nothing, but it’s not here to take from you either. In the recent words of Conan O’Brien – “Please don’t be cynical. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen.”
I hoped it would never have to come to this – but I’m going to have to start this article with a disclaimer. Thankfully no vicars, small boys, or indeed small girls form a part of this dissociation.
Disclaimer – I have never met, spoken to, written to, seduced, followed, or in any other way communicated with the red-haired genius behind the following videos. I just think they’re great.
The Elegant Guide is a six-part web comedy series written and presented by Ella Morton.
“Ella is a writer, actor and host with a penchant for absurdity and a fondness for dispensing questionable advice. She is the New York correspondent for the popular daily web show Rocketboom and maintains Sprinkle of Ginger, a blog about creativity, inspiration and social awkwardness.”
I’ll pull myself back from spinning lines such as “The Elegant Guide is refreshingly funny”, or “The Elegant Guide is a breath of fresh air”, simply because that’s lazy journalism, and this is certainly not. Journalism.
What I will say is I’ve watched all three of the currently released episodes several times each now, and they get a laugh each time. So go on, give in to the Elegant Guide.
Looking ahead, what does July to September have in store for us you ask? Well you’ll be happy to hear I have all the answers once more. Roll film…
July 2010
July saw the hottest English summer on record, with temperatures soaring above lukewarm. Children heading off on their first holiday without their parents were warned to keep levels of alcohol in their bodies to a minimum, the government suggesting only 5-6 units of alcohol in any one child at any time, due to an incident at the start of the month whereby a born-again Christian child, aged eighteen, after a long round of truth or bottle took up the challenge to urinate on a Christian bus, handily located mere feet from his basic holiday accommodation.
Friends of the self-named child were quoted to have said -
“Isn’t that Christian bus used for disabled children?”
Gordon Brown was available to comment, but we were busy.
August 2010
The festival season ended on a sour note at the end of August with the 2010 Reading and Leeds Festivals drawing in thousands upon thousands of scrotty little cunts*.
I’m not just talking your average wankers. This is on a whole different level. Imagine you, in your early twenties, have just walked into a sixth form common room where everybody is a little ‘wacky’ (or, ‘a bellend’, as they are known in later life). Now imagine they’re all wearing straw hats, with their shirts off. They’ve probably got some sort of florescent pain on their body, and they’ll swap you some Harbio for a can. They’re the sort of total dicks plaguing the 2010 festival for our pleasure.
Still, look on the bright side; Razorlight are headli… oh.
* Credit for this line goes entirely to my area manager, I’ve forgotten his name, while working at said festival in 2008.
September 2010
BACK TO SCHOOL, BACK TO SCHOOL, EVERYBODY GO BACK TO SCHOOL. In September, Miley Cryus had to take a break from filming the sequel to her hit feature film ‘Miley Cyrus: Take Me As You Will’ to go back to school after complains from parents flooded the internet suggesting that she’s a total fucking idiot. I disagree. Mental? Yes. An idiot? Decide for yourself -
Waking up bright and early Tuesday morning I was distraught to discover that it was December 1st. The first of December. 01/12/09. In summary; THE FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS.
Where did 31st November go? I thought I had one more day, just one more day before the pissing tide of Christmas joy became acceptable once more.
But no. The real reason for my confusion lies in the simple fact that none of us really know how many days are in each month. “But you’re wrong, what about the rhyme?” I hear you snear. Well yes, Thirty Days hath September certainly has its uses, but you are remembering the (not so catchy) rhyme itself, not the actual content sitting within it.
We’re all guilty of it. It’s one of those things that we as human beings just simply never bother to learn throughout our entire lifetimes. We don’t act this way with anything else important in our lives. “Shall I learn how to walk?” Go on then. “Should I get into this whole business of ‘brushing my teeth’ twice a day?” If I must. “Should I try to remember how many days each of the months hold?” I’ll give it a miss.
Despite this, I am ridiculously judgemental when it comes to April. My birthday falls on 30th April (each year) – the last day of the month.
Because of this, I have always been fully aware of how many days April holds – it would be hard not to be. Throughout my childhood and now my young adult life, if a friend, relative, or indeed parent was trying to remember my birthday, I would snear and scold them for even beginning to suggest that it could be on April 31st. “April the what? How long have you been living on this planet that could make you possibly think April has 31 days. You’re a fool, Mum, a fool”.
So it seems we’re all as bad as each other. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to discover the principles behind daylight saving. Which is ‘the good one’ again?
About
Benjamin Spall lives to laugh. He does little else. Only Logical compromises of commentaries and compositions written on a semi-regular basis. For further information, visit the about page.
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