Gair Rhydd

It’s all over the front page

It’s occurred to me that this column has become a bit of a bashing of right-wing newspapers. The Express, The Mail and The Telegraph have all felt the wrath of my words (er, yeah) in recent weeks. I may not agree with their opinions, but it’s mostly coincidence that they’ve been mentioned most often here. To balance things up, I feel I should at least have a little go at The Guardian and The Independent.

So, The Guardian and The Independent. Yeah. They’re pretty poncey. Only teachers read them. Liberal Teachers who only eat free-range tofu. Yeah.

Supernatural disbelief

I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to think I’m psychic. This might seem bold, even arrogant (unless you agree with me, in which case get in touch), but the other night I had a dream. The soundtrack to this dream was Babies. What’s that, you say, Pulp’s kitchen sink masterpiece Babies Why yes, I reply, the very same. I then woke up with the aforementioned classic giddily careering around my head.

That’s hardly surprising – I’d been dreaming about it. But when I left the house, I put my MP3 player on shuffle. The first song came on. It was ‘Babies’.

Is it just me...

...or is everyone who they are these days?

Reality TV (we have to stop calling it that), has a new set of catchphrases. Repeated endlessly by banal, preening idiots, they’re the mantras of choice used as primitive responses to feeling threatened, or artificial shows of support for the person they decried as ‘such a bitch’ only moments before.

I am who I am. You are who you are. These statements may appear eye-shatteringly obvious, but they have been elevated to the level of the profound by sheer repetition and, significantly, a refusal to consider that perhaps ‘being yourself’ is not always the best strategy.