Censorship isn’t so bad, you know. It keeps the majority of humanity colouring in the lines. You can’t blame comedians for exploiting tragedies, but the news has a little more responsibility when it comes to handling the general public. As a member of this general public, I think that the news needs to come with a general disclaimer. It should warn us average folk, because, more often than not, I find myself hiding behind the sofa, cradling my inner child at the heinous acts of humanity. The majority of the news is like a drawn out snuff film commentated by immaculately photogenic mannequins or highly respected, well-spoken codgers yammering out of the corner of their mouths. They speak over the news, escalating anything to a dangerous level, making the world seem uninhabitable. Even when there is no news they seem to find some unfortunate bystander, who happens to be a little worse for wear, marrying pigeons in the park, reveal that he is Paul Gascoigne and begin to stir up a huge shid-storm until the next marketable misfortune becomes palliate to their needs.
Over time the news is bound to get more interactive as it becomes tailored to the needs of the public. Guaranteed that in the future the majority of news will be generated in a pedestrian style, camera phone journalism, uploaded onto a database, which is then immediately accessible by the majority of the world on their own personal hand-held devices. It will be raw and unedited; just as the people will demand it to be. Today’s format of news (as we now know it) will become obsolete. There will no longer be a need for a man to sit there, with his wonderful head of hair (considering his age), and simply read the headlines to us. It will be a whole new presentation of current affairs. We simply see, and make our own headlines, our own opinions. Free thought. News made by the people for the people.
One day, in this future, an undignified man-child will watch as a scandal unfolds before his very eyes. He will remove a device from whatever pockets have evolved into by this point in time and document the occasion, In all his wisdom, he holds the camera moderately steady, choking back laughter as a mindlessly drunk (possibly drugged up) woman innocently relieves herself onto her cheating husband’s car. Noticing the beatnik journalist, she flips off the cameraman and begins shrieking incoherent profanities and belching out small jets of bile onto her surprisingly fashionable blouse. She meekly redressed and slips off the car before stumbling out of the business park where her husband works. The short video clip ends on a tasteful fade-out of the mid-morning sun. Within seconds this spectacular piece of footage is being viewed by millions of people, the lady has been identified on a forum with a link to her social networking profile page. By the next morning she has become a worldwide hit; spawning a new trend of pissing on peoples’ cars and a top-selling t-shirt that rivals Charlie Sheen’s ‘Winning’ campaign. Shortly after, the woman commits suicide out of the shame and the husband continues his insensitive tirade of skewering cheap women regardless.
News in real time; that’s what people will want. Unfortunately, for the time being we must settle with Paul Gascoigne marrying pigeons. Knowing him, however, he will be busying himself in the fresh produce aisle in a Tesco somewhere, unbeknownst to the faculty, successfully running his innovative vegetable wash and manicure service. He’s an assiduous man. We should probably leave him to it.