Friday, 8 July 2011
NotW: "When you were good you were very, very good..."
There’s one topic that’s at the top of everyone’s Twitter timeline: and that’s the closure of the News of the World following the phone hacking scandal, and their other gross misdeeds that have been revealed as a result.
Let there be no doubt, I was as appalled as anyone by the allegations that the NotW had been hacking into Milly Dowler’s voicemail and deleting messages, and then using this to generate gut-wrenching interviews from her family. This is unforgivable. Just as the rest of hackgate was extreme foul play.
But I’m not convinced the NotW needed to fold. It is a British newspaper with a 168-year history and the closure of another British business saddens me. Especially a print journalism business.
To work on the NotW requires the utmost journalistic skill and talent, and it’s a safe bet that those who work there are at the absolute top of their game. You don’t need to personally like the type of stories published by the NotW (the kiss and tells, the celebrity tittle tattle, the lurid exposes), that’s largely a matter of personal taste – and I’d wager that the majority of people rubbing their hands together at the closure of the NotW never read it in the first place.
To all the people gleeful at the paper’s shamefaced closure, just remember that there are hundreds of highly skilled people who are suddenly out of work… despite the majority being guilty of nothing worse than keeping their heads down and getting on with their jobs. We are in a time of recession, which affects everyone in every industry: so being highly skilled isn’t going to help the recently redundant from the NotW anymore than it’s going to help a friend of mine made redundant from a business magazine last week. As for the idea that the NUJ is going to be able to swing them a good deal: that’s just laughable.
There are many people (as far as I can see, none of whom work in journalism) who crow that working for a red top requires nothing more than the ability to make up stories. If that was what the NotW staff did, the paper would have folded a week after it launched in 1843. When I spent five years working for one of the UK’s biggest tabloid moguls, I quickly got sick of people assuming all I did was invent celebrity rumours for a living. I boredly replied that if that was what we did, we’d have the knickers sued off us every week and we’d close. Along with all the other newspapers and magazines that were apparently making stuff up. I can assure you that the fact checking was stringent, and the arguments with the enormous legal team to prove that what we were saying was true were lengthy. And tedious. But necessary.
What is also clear from the gloating coffin-chasers in the past 24 hours is that they don’t seem to realise the volume of talented people involved in putting together a paper like the NotW. They seem to be branding everyone as ‘reporters’, when in fact the reporters make up a tiny percentage of the people who would have seen the paper go to press each Saturday. The reporters may have received the by-line, but the printed paper would not have become a reality without tireless work from: page planners, flatplanners, sub-editors, proof readers, lawyers, editors, photographers, picture researchers, picture editors, designers, production editors, print managers, advertisers, sales teams, distributors, printers, secretaries, receptionists, PAs (this is an incomplete list). Reporters are a tiny part of the production machine, even if they are all you see.
So, while I deplore the phone hacking and interference in the cases or murder victims and missing people, I am also deeply saddened by the loss of the NotW and by the gleeful abandonment with which many have responded to its demise.
Bye, bye, NotW. When you were good you were very, very good. But when you were bad you were horrid.
Wednesday, 6 July 2011
Feminist Fairy Godmother
This fantastic cartoon by Tom Gauld was posted on Twitter last night, and I've fallen in love with it. So I just wanted to share. Enjoy.
Monday, 4 July 2011
Royal Mail
Back in early April, I sent a note to the future Duke and Duchess of Cambridge in anticipation of their wedding. In which I suggested it would be a lovely gesture if they wanted to chose to contribute a small token to my upcoming marriage, seeing as how we taxpayers are obliged to contribute to the cost of theirs... even if we can't afford it.
Here is my original letter:
Dear Ms Middleton and Prince William,
Congratulations on your forthcoming wedding. I hope you have a lovely day and a very happy future together. It certainly looks like it will be a very grand occasion from the press coverage that I’ve seen so far.
My fiancé and I are also getting married this year, on 28 October, and we are very excited to be getting married in the same year as such an important royal wedding. However, ours will be a much smaller affair than yours, owing to the fact that we earn low incomes and are struggling to keep our heads above water.
I was wondering whether – since, as taxpayers, my fiancé and I are obliged to contribute to the cost of your wedding – whether you would like to contribute anything towards the cost of our wedding? I appreciate this is an unorthodox request, but since we have had no choice about contributing to your ceremony (despite our low incomes, and the fact that only this week I’ve had to ring the electricity board to explain I cannot make the minimum payments), it would mean so much to us to know that you had chosen to support our ceremony.
I’m not sure what your final wedding budget is (some estimates say £20,000,000), but ours is £2,000: a fortune to us. So anything you could contribute would mean so much to both of us, as well as to our friends and family who are not only helping to pay towards your wedding, but are also chipping in to help my fiancé and me make our smaller-scale day as magical as possible.
Wishing you every happiness,
Well, they replied today... and while it doesn't look like they're coughing up, they do sound like they have lovely manners. Or, rather, their lady in waiting does.
Is a feminist wedding even possible?
I’m a feminist yet I’m getting married. We’re doing our best to make it as anti-traditional as possible, but there’s ultimately no getting away from the fact that conventional, heterosexual marriage is a deeply patriarchal system. Which sadly isn’t sexy.
This begs the question of why we’re getting married at all, especially since we have no desire for children. The simple answer is that we want to spend our lives together, and we want to make a commitment to each other in front of our family and friends. It’s quite straightforward.
So we’ve done the obvious things: it will be a registry office (and we’ve requested a female registrar); my father will not ‘give me away’, instead my fiancé and I will enter the registry room together; there will be no top table; there will be no all-male line-up for speeches and toasts; and as far as possible we are using local, small businesses and services to help us with supplies.
Couple all this with our strict £2,000 budget for everything, and this really is a teeny tiny wedding (yep, I know, we could do it for under £200 if we tried). My dress cost £110, which (smug face) I think is pretty good going.
But a thorny issue is that of my surname. Do I keep my ‘maiden’ name (what an awful expression), or do I assume my husband’s surname? Do I become ‘Mrs’ or do I remain ‘Ms’? While I know that ultimately, whatever I decide, people will call me ‘Mrs HisFirstName HisSurname’ (presumably the same people who willfully insist on calling me by the insulting title ‘Miss’ now), there is still an element of choice for me. If not for my husband-to-be, who will retain his gender-neutral title of ‘Dr’.
I’ve had endless conversations about this with feminist friends for months and still reached no happy conclusion. Some are horrified I’m considering changing my surname, others think it’s not a big deal. But of all the anti-traditional, anti-patriarchal statements to make via marriage, the name issue seems the biggest. As it’s the ultimate statement of your identity to the outside world.
In a joint refusal to double-barrel our names, the upshot is I probably will become ‘Ms HisSurname’… but I feel like I’m letting the side down. There needs to be a better solution…
This begs the question of why we’re getting married at all, especially since we have no desire for children. The simple answer is that we want to spend our lives together, and we want to make a commitment to each other in front of our family and friends. It’s quite straightforward.
So we’ve done the obvious things: it will be a registry office (and we’ve requested a female registrar); my father will not ‘give me away’, instead my fiancé and I will enter the registry room together; there will be no top table; there will be no all-male line-up for speeches and toasts; and as far as possible we are using local, small businesses and services to help us with supplies.
Couple all this with our strict £2,000 budget for everything, and this really is a teeny tiny wedding (yep, I know, we could do it for under £200 if we tried). My dress cost £110, which (smug face) I think is pretty good going.
But a thorny issue is that of my surname. Do I keep my ‘maiden’ name (what an awful expression), or do I assume my husband’s surname? Do I become ‘Mrs’ or do I remain ‘Ms’? While I know that ultimately, whatever I decide, people will call me ‘Mrs HisFirstName HisSurname’ (presumably the same people who willfully insist on calling me by the insulting title ‘Miss’ now), there is still an element of choice for me. If not for my husband-to-be, who will retain his gender-neutral title of ‘Dr’.
I’ve had endless conversations about this with feminist friends for months and still reached no happy conclusion. Some are horrified I’m considering changing my surname, others think it’s not a big deal. But of all the anti-traditional, anti-patriarchal statements to make via marriage, the name issue seems the biggest. As it’s the ultimate statement of your identity to the outside world.
In a joint refusal to double-barrel our names, the upshot is I probably will become ‘Ms HisSurname’… but I feel like I’m letting the side down. There needs to be a better solution…
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