With the dawn of a new year there comes the usual dearth of news stories. As always, this is due to a combination of there being no news worth documenting at present and news reporters being too hungover to get off their arses and research proper stories. If it wasn’t for Saddam Hussein’s final moments being YouTubed, the media would have had to resort to inventing stories to fill news slots and column inches. That might not present a problem to The Sun’s journalists, who are accustomed to whopping out whoppers on a regular basis. To journalists who adhere to their profession’s code of conduct however, the truth must still out, even if it does mean gouging holes in barrel bottoms. As a result, we, the newspaper-buying public, are treated instead to dazzling exclusives such as this one from today’s Press & Journal:
‘Bundles of the Press and Journal have been plundered from newsagents in a north-east town. Three shops in Banff were targeted in the early hours of Friday morning. Police said large quantities of newspapers were taken from outside Costcutters in Boyndie Street West, Morning Noon and Night in Lusylaw Road and the Co-operative store in the High Street between 2.45am and 8am. Julie Cartwright, manager of the Morning Noon and Night store, said up to 60 copies of the Press and Journal were stolen. “It was very upsetting for our elderly customers. We had one man in three times looking for a paper,” she said. Police described the theft as “uncommon.” “The number of newspapers taken would have weighed a fair weight and whoever stole them must have had transport and perhaps more importantly a method to dispose of them,” said Constable Neil Shand. “I would like to hear from anyone who saw someone interfering with the newspapers at the shops listed on the morning of the 29th and from anyone who may have been aware of persons selling large quantities of newspapers in the Banff area, who would not normally be doing so.”’
I can just picture the scene in the dingy toilets of a Banff niteclub (OK, so Banff probably doesn’t have toilets, let alone a niteclub, but indulge me on this one)... A punter is zipping up his fly and turning away from the urinal when a dodgy-looking geezer in a trenchcoat shuffles up to him and whispers in his ear ‘Scuse me mate, looking for any cheap papers?’ Glancing around cautiously to check that no one else is present, the punter nervously replies ‘Depends…what have you got?’ Opening up his trenchcoat, the geezer pulls out a bundle of newspapers, still wrapped in packing tape. ‘What do ya want?’ he growls. ‘I got The Sun, The Mirror and the Press & Journal. All mint condition, never been read.’ ‘How much do you want for them?’ asks the punter, never one to pass up a bargain. ‘Ten pence each or a fiver the lot’ replies the geezer. The punter rummages in his pocket for before pulling out a 20 pence. ‘I tell you what, I’ll take a Sun and a P & J’ he says. ‘Nice choice’ says the geezer, pocketing the change. He hands over the papers, which the punter promptly stashes down the front of his trousers. ‘Nice doing business’ he says and turns to leave. As he reaches for the door leading back into the niteclub, the geezer shouts after him ‘By the way mate, a word of advice - them P & Js are fucking dynamite. If I were you, I’d only read half at a time.’ The punter nods and walks out, patting his pocket as he goes to ensure that his illicit cargo is still there. The door slams shut behind him, leaving the dodgy geezer alone in the toilets. The geezer removes his newly-acquired 20 pence from his pocket, flips it in the air and cackles evilly. He winks at his doppelganger in the mirror and cackles. 'Sorted.'
‘Bundles of the Press and Journal have been plundered from newsagents in a north-east town. Three shops in Banff were targeted in the early hours of Friday morning. Police said large quantities of newspapers were taken from outside Costcutters in Boyndie Street West, Morning Noon and Night in Lusylaw Road and the Co-operative store in the High Street between 2.45am and 8am. Julie Cartwright, manager of the Morning Noon and Night store, said up to 60 copies of the Press and Journal were stolen. “It was very upsetting for our elderly customers. We had one man in three times looking for a paper,” she said. Police described the theft as “uncommon.” “The number of newspapers taken would have weighed a fair weight and whoever stole them must have had transport and perhaps more importantly a method to dispose of them,” said Constable Neil Shand. “I would like to hear from anyone who saw someone interfering with the newspapers at the shops listed on the morning of the 29th and from anyone who may have been aware of persons selling large quantities of newspapers in the Banff area, who would not normally be doing so.”’
I can just picture the scene in the dingy toilets of a Banff niteclub (OK, so Banff probably doesn’t have toilets, let alone a niteclub, but indulge me on this one)... A punter is zipping up his fly and turning away from the urinal when a dodgy-looking geezer in a trenchcoat shuffles up to him and whispers in his ear ‘Scuse me mate, looking for any cheap papers?’ Glancing around cautiously to check that no one else is present, the punter nervously replies ‘Depends…what have you got?’ Opening up his trenchcoat, the geezer pulls out a bundle of newspapers, still wrapped in packing tape. ‘What do ya want?’ he growls. ‘I got The Sun, The Mirror and the Press & Journal. All mint condition, never been read.’ ‘How much do you want for them?’ asks the punter, never one to pass up a bargain. ‘Ten pence each or a fiver the lot’ replies the geezer. The punter rummages in his pocket for before pulling out a 20 pence. ‘I tell you what, I’ll take a Sun and a P & J’ he says. ‘Nice choice’ says the geezer, pocketing the change. He hands over the papers, which the punter promptly stashes down the front of his trousers. ‘Nice doing business’ he says and turns to leave. As he reaches for the door leading back into the niteclub, the geezer shouts after him ‘By the way mate, a word of advice - them P & Js are fucking dynamite. If I were you, I’d only read half at a time.’ The punter nods and walks out, patting his pocket as he goes to ensure that his illicit cargo is still there. The door slams shut behind him, leaving the dodgy geezer alone in the toilets. The geezer removes his newly-acquired 20 pence from his pocket, flips it in the air and cackles evilly. He winks at his doppelganger in the mirror and cackles. 'Sorted.'
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