Press (off to finish)

When I was about 5 years old, I had the dubious honour of being pageboy to my schools May Queen – the lovely Sandra Atkinson…

Duties included carrying her crown on a satin pillow while she walked to her throne. I wore a white shirt with a red tie, black short trousers, my black shoes buffed to a mirror like shine.

I remember that day as if it were yesterday, primarily because my school at the time (Reevy Hill Infants School), keen to warp tomorrows adults by giving parents ammunition for future humiliation, had a habit of inviting the Telegraph & Argus along to photograph events such as this for future publication. A photograph which my parents and grandparents revealed with toecurling regularity every time my girlfriend de jour popped along for tea.

That, to my recollection, was my first mention in the local press. The first point in a short lived celebrity arc which encompassed many of my finer acting roles at school (including my infamous portrayal of the Plum Pudding Flea in the musical ‘The Owl and the Pussycat Went To Sea’, for which I was bestowed the title ‘Loudest Schoolboy in Bradford’ by the then incumbent Lord Mayor of Bradford), and culminating (to date) in the headline ‘Crash Four In Near Death Tumble’.

So why am I revealing this?

It’s all about being in the news. Regular people rarely enjoy their exploits revealed in the press, whether that be the newspaper, television, or, in this age of rampant amateur reportage, on a website.

Writing for the Old Heatonian has involved a steep learning curve for me. In it’s earlier days, under the stewardship of Mr Baines, Old Heatonian was positively scandalous, relating the exploits of certain characters in the village in excrutiating detail. When I took over, conscious that its readership enjoyed reading said articles, I sought to emulate what had gone before, while casting my net further to encompass a broader range of characters.

However, lessons have been learned over the years. One or two articles have been pulled because I overstepped the mark and elicited comment/outrage. And gladly – it is only with the constant vigilance of ones peers that one learns where the lines lie, and thereafter not to step over them.

But Old Heatonian is not meant to be a serious news organ. It’s a bit of fun (I seem to be constantly reminding people of this). It’s a gentle leg pull.

It’s about gossip.

I reported a bit of gossip on Saturday which, although I went to great pains to be obscure, has nevertheless got someones knickers in a twist. Someone who constantly encourages me to ‘have a go at Herbie’on the website. This person never says, ‘Hey!, That was a nice comment you posted the other day about me or my business’, but is always keen to express his outrage to third parties if I so much as hint (with tongue firmly planted in my chubby little cheek) that all may not be well in Dodge. Even though Old Heatonian is a 2 way road – there’s always the comments box or my e-mail address, which carries more weight with me than tittle tattle in the pub.

So, with a heart heavy with the weight of disillusionment, I have made a slight edit to the article in question in a (no doubt vain) bid to further obfuscate the issue…

In order for the Old Heatonian to continue in any shape or form, I hereby launch an appeal for a new writer. Preferably one who will write safe things – the ability to entertain is no longer a pre-requisite for the increasingly pedestrian path down which we are travelling.

I enjoy writing though, so I’ll probably do something else somewhere else.

No Comments

No comments yet.

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a comment