Periodical Ponderings

I was on lunch yesterday when I fancied reading a newspaper. Over the last four years I’ve gradually stopped reading them frequently to the point I do so every few weeks. Standing in WHSmiths finding myself staring at the quadrant stand of papers I started to see which one I’d purchase. The first one to catch my eye was The Sun. The first paper I ever read. Its large topical banner headlines with colour pictures of scantily clad gorgeous women, what more could a randy teenager want. I used to read it as I delivered them on my paper round, always starting 20 minutes early so I could give myself some leisurely reading time. After a while though, it became apparent that these stories were rather salacious and false, plus I’d have as much chance with them women inside them as Alan Partridge has of getting a second series.

I took a few extra steps around to the second side of the stand and saw The Daily Star, with even bigger headlines and larger photos of semi naked women but the thought of finishing a paper in two minutes encouraged me to continue until I moved on to the broadsheets, or the former broadsheets. I first began reading a broadsheet when my old English teacher instructed us to do so telling us it will improve our vocabulary. She touted The Independent, so off I went and bought one. It was during this period that I became aware of the political and commercial significance the broadsheet signified. I felt all self-righteous and left wing slapping the coins on the counter and walking off with a paper that could also be used as a parachute. The Independent, the paper that stood for independence and against the commercial might of News Corporation. Still able to viably print off papers even though News Corp always outbids them when television advertising space is available, well according to my English teacher they did. So I sat on a park bench and started to read the first few sentences when I came a cropper. What were these words ‘insidious’ and ‘cantankerous’, I was only used to the likes of ‘creepy’ and ‘bellow’. That’s when I realised that to read this paper I would need a dictionary, and reading one story became a one hour study session, frequently turning the papers of the ol’ Oxford Dictionary. And little by little my brain retained words that had two syllables, then three, then four and I even managed to squeeze in a couple of five syllable words. After a year I had all these random words to stupefy people with and occasionally get my backside kicked by a budding semanticist. And all though I was truly grateful for The Independent for introducing me to a greater range of vocabulary, my views had become sort of left wing and off beat. This was mainly due to their stories being completely non-mainstream. For example, there would be an economical crisis and their front page story would be about the polar ice caps melting. A valid story that is true but sometimes I wanted to tap into the pulse of the ‘now’ and so I was finally prised away from ‘The Inde’ to its popular cousin, The Guardian. Now, carrying The Guardian around under your arm pretty much informs the rest of the country that you’re more inclined to vote for Labour than Conservatives, which I didn’t have a problem with. The paper still had many a word that had me baffled and so my learning process continued. However, after a while I started to realise the undertone utterances of its political slant were everywhere. At first, it was a bit of a shock becoming fully aware of it all but I have to say I was happy to agree with most of what was written, and so began the year love affair with the paper. It ended when I sneaked out early one morning and cheated on it with The Times. I hold my hands up, the paper was an easy read and offered me more material things, for instance a free CD. News Corp had corrupted me, they had more money than all the other papers and therefore could afford to ply greater amounts of cash into their journalism covering issues in more detail and offer a greater breadth of them, all covered with the Murdoch glaze, of course. I was slightly savvy now though in the periodical world due to the papers I read previously and could see through the shameless bashing of Rupert’s enemies.
Staring at these papers in the quadrant gave me a tough choice, so I decided to move around the next side to see if there was something else on offer to make the choosing a lot less difficult. As I shuffled around I saw the only broadsheet that still retains its size, The Daily Telegraph. As the Guardian represents labour the Telegraph does the Conservatives and I’ve never ever bought this paper. Mostly due to the fact my father reads it and I could never understand why. I have to say I’ve read certain supplements as they lay scattered around my father’s flat and they are well written and highly slanted but I just couldn’t betray The Independent or The Guardian in teaching me new words.

And so I reached the final side of the quadrant where only the local paper was stacked and is truly as appealing a read as Edwina Curry’s memoirs. Realising I needed to pick a paper soon or lunch would evaporate I walked around once more before picking up the Guardian. Its compact size, berlina style and general colour scheme enticed me enough to make the purchase. And besides if The Private Eye can ridicule it and it still sponsors their competitions it must still be a good egg of a paper.