“We just want you to write the odd article about, well anything really” he said, instantly giving me a rough feel for the kind of tightly focused product they publish.
That’s just about all that I can really remember in detail. It says in my diary that they were having a “working meeting in a pub”. Starting at 7 o’clock. On a Friday night. Excellent plan. What on earth I drank, agreed to write or how “that” woman ended up lying in my bed this morning with a particularly attractive small puddle of drool running from the corner of her mouth - I have no idea.
If that is what journalism is all about, then I’ve obviously being doing it, unaware, for years. Now, if I can just work in a few more spelling mistakes and factual errors, I’ll be able to send my portfolio off to the Guardian.
German Phrase For Today: “noch ein Viertele?” - Sure I’ll be your science editor.
Song playing as this was published: The Sundays “Here’s Where The Story Ends”
Now now. Lets not be nasty about the journalists…I’m one too, you know.
Fabulous. Frequently inebriated. I didn’t say they were a bad bunch……
Tramp.
Look, I didn’t know she’d be at the meeting. I might have said that I was never going to speak to her ever again, but she just lives around the corner and sharing a taxi home seemed like a good idea. It won’t happen again. Probably.
Anyway, shouldn’t you be studying?
“All the sexual politics of a Viking attack” -Steve, Coupling, BBC
Welcome to the dark side.