Thanks, once again, to the Bristol Post for some top class journalism in reporting that “Only in Bristol: Woman pulls down pants and moons 2,000 people at Colston Hall.” Drawn in to read (why?) the non story, it transpires that a woman who was in the front row of the alleged comedian Noel Fielding’s show, stood up, and bared her bum to the entire audience, to which Fielding quipped, “Only in Bristol.” Well, yes: it must happen all the time in our fair city.
This is not, surely, the sort of story that the people of Bristol wanted when they demanded we have our own newspaper many moons ago. “We must have our own version of the Daily Star in Bristol. My life is incomplete without full details of arse-baring and comedy shows” was not, I suspect, what we had in mind.
But this is what happens when newspapers decline and the art of journalism is reduced to desperation and titillation. I well recall the Post being the watchword for excellence in writing but I see precious little evidence in the remnants of today’s hapless, hopeless organ.
Soon, the Post will be a weekly rag, just like they are becoming everywhere. There is hardly any point to it anymore and no one buys it. It’s dying a very slow death and of course I am not celebrating one little bit, oh no, because of my enduring bitterness of being removed from the paper a decade ago during the boardroom bust up at Bristol Rovers. Well, perhaps I am, then, just a little bit, maybe a lot.
The curse of Eclectic Blue strikes again.
