Me And My Big Mouth Essay

Me And My Big Mouth Essay-19
Words tumbled from my lips during that interview that were as idiotic, ignorant and offensive as you could imagine.

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I sometimes think that when I die there should be two graves dug: the first would be the usual kind of size, say 2 feet by 7, but the other would be much, much larger. I suspect most of you will have heard of the shitstorm that howled about the head of Jan Moir, a journalist who wrote a beastly article in the Daily Mail about the death of Stephen Gately the day before his funeral.

I don’t propose to stop and pick over the carcass of that epically ill-judged piece of gutter journalism.

The internet had hobbled it fatally and it was led limping back to its stall, to the jeers and cheers of the public. All in the same week the Fourth Estate has been rescued by Twitter and shamed by Twitter. And if so is it safe in the hands of people like you and me? Without, I hope, too much self-pity, I do seem to have made myself a target.

Ian Hislop, editor of the Private Eye heaved a huge sigh of relief – the Eye had decided to publish and Hislop is under a personal restraining order which would have led to his facing the real likelihood of imprisonment for contempt of court, breaching the terms of a judgement and all manner of nutty malfeasances. The Lords Temporal say nothing, the Lords Spiritual have nothing to say, and the House of Commons has nothing to say and says it. The Soul of Man Under Socialism, 1891 I would urge you click the link above and read the rest of that magnificent essay, especially the continuation of Wilde’s thoughts about the press. Journalists who don’t understand what Twitter really is (the overwhelming majority) will use my name as a kind of shorthand for the service. A question people have been asking about journalists for years, but which they have every right to ask about me too.

So I just ignored the whole incident and pretended to myself that I had been misunderstood, misunderstood, you might even say; that it was obvious to the meanest intelligence that I had never meant to suggest that Poland was complicit in the Holocaust and therefore it would make so sense for me to apologise — it would only perpetuate the culture of offence and apology that is so tedious a feature of our world. Really I was so guilty and angry with myself that I directed the anger outwards, as people will. I am sorry in all directions, and all the more sorry because it is no one’s fault but my own, which always makes it so much worse.

And sorry because I didn’t have the wit, style, grace or guts to apologise at the first opportunity.Which, let’s face it, is no way to run a whelk-stall.But maybe the age of politics as we knew and loved it is over.Some of you will think I am a simpleton to imagine any such thing and that she is much more canny, crafty and conniving than that. Political opponents will have every opportunity to shake their heads and murmur about judgement, reliability and loose canons.Conspiracy theorists can be the faithful guardians of our democracy, but like many fierce dogs they can often mistrust and savage the postman, the doctor or the innocent bystander as well as the real malefactor. Political Stir Fry There is a whole suite of reasons that disqualify me from being any kind of politician. I would spend my time writing craven letters of apology and writhing with guilt, shame and self-disgust.It will all be silly, distressing, disingenuous and ignorant, but then she is a tabloid columnist and that is her job.The reason I feel sorry for her is not that she is a journalist, or that she writes for the Daily Mail, I am quite sure she can do without my pompous, patronising sympathy.It was not part of a clever commercial plan to “build my brand” (whatever the arse means) nor to sell tickets, books and DVDs nor to ready myself for government, nor to disseminate a point of view nor to raise my profile in the media.I was travelling in Africa and other spots around the globe and I thought it would be an interesting way of sending little postcards to anyone who might be interested.Here is how Oscar Wilde saw things a hundred and twenty years ago:- In old days men had the rack. I like toys, I never plan ahead and I have little thought for consequences.I had no agenda with joining Twitter a year ago other than popping my toe in its water and seeing what the temperature was.


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