TACKY TACKY TACKY (The Sunday Sport)

Member Name: salgirl

Product:	The Sunday Sport
Date:	09/04/01 (1044 review reads)
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The final embodiment of all things evil (no, wait, that was Maggie Thatcher). The final embodiment of how newspapers have plummeted into the gutter.

I hate this newspaper more than I hate any other newspaper, and I do hate other newspapers.

This just about sums up the general mentality of newspapers, when the battle to win any sort of circulation war reduces them to providing a soft porn, intellectually insulting, tacky, tasteless, drivelling, conjecturing piece of paper not fit to hang in Alf Garnett's lavatory.

I'll admit I bought one when it first came out because I didn't believe it was as bad as others were saying. Not for the first time in my life I was wrong.

Count The Nipples??? What's wrong with a good old-fashioned crossword?

I slipped up again when they professed to having pictures of Hitler dressed as a woman. I immediately hated myself for this as they hadn't even done a decent job faking the photos and I'd just stamped MUG on my forehead. I don't have to be hit over the head more than twice to know when something's best left alone.

My deeply held suspicions were confirmed when I watched a tv programme where the owner, David Sullivan took on the job of one of his reporters. I wanted to see just how they set the low standards they consistently fail to achieve.

Mr Sullivan went everywhere with all his precious work goodies in a plastic carrier bag. I had rather hoped that he would used a leopard print briefcase, but I suppose that was asking too much. He was sent out to meet a young woman called Emma who had bedded a celebrity sportsman and wanted to sell her story. Juggling the plastic bag and writing at the same time was clearly difficult for him, and the girl looked bemused by his polite questions.

The editor, Tony, wasn't pleased with the extraordinarily brief account and asked for a re-write with much more juicy detail, which if I recal
l correctly, was done by his female colleague. And poor overworked, over-punned Tony had worse things to contend with.

For example: A woman with the most frighteningly enormous breasts (can't remember the size, but they're about this big <holding up two buckets>) had been booked to fly from America for a photo shoot and interview. Listening to the predictable sexist comments, the blokes in the room were morphing into school boys dressed in big men's clothes, although David Sullivan didn't have to do too much morphing considering his already diminutive stature - students of the Napolean Complex please gather round for the next debate.

Sadly for them, the tottering woman wasn't given clearance to fly (I'd like to say she was interfering with radar, but I don't want to add to the sexist comments, it was health related) and The Sport found itself with a couple of rather large spaces to be filled at the last moment. So for those wondering where the "Double Decker Bus On The Moon" ideas come from and why...

Possibly the moment all 10 coffin lid nails were banged in simultaneously was when they revealed their next circulation grabbing idea to be something along the lines of Blind Date but actually Blind Shag.

Having asked for applicants for the job, only one young, blonde suspiciously beatuiful woman applied and few blokes. One decidedly average chap was selected for the task and they were taken to a hotel for their couples of hours of simply sensational steamy sweaty sex. Both were briefed - before being debriefed <rimshot/cymbal> 'I thank you' - taken with bags over their head to the room, revealed to each other and shoved in, clutching condoms, with macho shouts of "Goooo Onnnnn" etc etc. I remember the chap had Y-fronts and his socks on. No change there then.

About half an hour later the young woman appears clutching her blouse together, half dressed, and set
tles down with the surprised reporters for the agreed after-sex interview. Glowing and giggling she answers their questions and ratings before finally laughingly confessing that he hadn't actually been able to rise to the occasion and she'd agreed to lie about it. The man emerges smoking a cigarette, saying things like how "they went like the clappers... she was mad for it... insatiable... really good..." Can't remember what their prize was for this, but whatever it was wouldn't have made up for the guy's humiliation months later when sitting round the tv set with his mates.

Not a news story is left unturned. They're all turned into pun-awful trivia. The only aspect they're interested in is the sleazy or perverse one, and no amount of "Check it out, mate" being bandied about was going to persuade me otherwise. I mean, anyone who is sent out to report on the story of a child reincarnated as a fish finger (honestly, I swear, a fish finger) cannot be taking the game of being a NEWSpaper seriously. A Comic by all means, but not a NEWSpaper.

One step up from Viz, but not as clever.

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