Hold the Ninth Page

Hurrah for journalistic mediocrity! Were it not for the reporters of news' more trivial occurances, struggling writers would doubtless never get their big chance to impress the readers who had already waded through the paper's "worthy" opening tales of international politics and homeland security. But this could be the one and only chance for these fledgling scribes: blow this and they may not write again, their names blackened by shame. What is needed is tale too idiotic for those highbrow front-pagers, told with the ruthless laconic wit of the underdog. What is needed is a bloody good headline.

I remember with fondness the lunch break I leafed through a tabloid and came across a headline of stupendous brilliance. Lo, it read:

"MAN TRAPPED IN BATH DIES TWICE"

I was hooked, eagerly reading on to discover the plight of a simple northern man who had fallen over backwards in his bath, only to wedge his head between the hot and cold taps. Trapped for hours whilst emergency services worked to free him, his heart stopped twice from hypothermia (the modest towel they'd brought him evidently did little to raise his spirits, least of all his temperature). Nevertheless, he survived to tell his somewhat ludicrous tale, and British journalism was all the better for it.

Yet, what of the others? For those not blessed with the task of reporting the endeavours Chilean revolutionaries or politicians' extra-marital liasons, snappy, eye-catching headlines are needed, and fast. It's a skill that works well, as a gaggle of neglected journos found when they won ACES awards (not heard of them? neither had they) for their pithiest titles:

"WOMAN WHO WOULDN'T WEAR PANTS WINS SUIT" (a highly impressive multi-layered pun that even finds time to allude to naked girls)

And there are of course those for whom irony means "kinda metallic:"

"TYPHOON RIPS THROUGH CEMETERY: HUNDREDS DEAD" (the post mortem's going to be a bugger)

"HOSPITALS SUED BY SEVEN FOOT DOCTORS" (tales of giant people always excite me)

Writing a headline that stands out from the mire of a paper's middle pages needs skill, perhaps even ungodly powers. So concentrated are these writers' headline conjuring abilities that their bodies draw energy from all available sources to fuel it, most notably the limited stores of "normal lookin' " cells. Without them we are left with horror. Horses bolt. Children cry. Yet we should placate our fears and gaze into the face of cattle-startling terror; these writers speak for us simple folk and report the news that no-one else would. Moreso, they do it with the wit, humour and cynicism we would expect. Hurrah, indeed, for those forgotten few. Hurrah for mediocrity.


Celebrate!

Embrace the lords of the headline and lend your support to the soon to close www.theonion.com. Masters of mediocrity (and outright lies).