Good news is no news, the old saying goes. On the other hand, BAD news is always news, and bloody hell, as ever, there’s plenty of it about. Naturally, the meeja just loves to pile on the gloom and doom to depress us all.
Coronavirus is on the rampage, an epidemic that’s about to acquire superstar, pandemic status. As well as the cost in human misery, the effects on the global economy are predicted to be dire. Over in Brussels, EU plutocrats want to play the cunt in trade negotiations, and this could mean that we’ll run out of everything as a consequence. The planet’s on fire, so we’re told repeatedly by creepy truant Grunta Thunderbox and her cult following. The Middle East certainly is on fire, pushing yet more hordes of migrants ( not to mention a load of pure chancers) in Europe’s direction. To add to the fun, yet more storms threaten to batter the living daylights out of us, with the the Met Office in its element, predicting the equivalent of a month’s rainfall in a day. The Markles are back in the UK, spreading their own unique brand of irritation and annoyance, and the Villa look odds on for the drop; yes, there’s news that goes from the sublime to the ridiculous, and none of it good. Read awl abaht it!
It just seems to go on and on…the stories peppered with alarmist trigger words such as ‘DISASTER’, ‘CATASTROPHE’, ‘CHAOS’, ‘HORROR’ and the like. Never mind though, as according to NASA, there’s a huge, fuck off asteroid heading straight for us come the end of April. Apparently it’s a planet killer, so if it strikes, it’ll be Goodnight Vienna. We can all bend over, put our heads between our knees and kiss our arses goodbye. It’ll be the end of all our troubles. Yet at the same time, we’re told to keep calm and carry on. Don’t panic! Don’t panic! Don’t hoard tins of beans and bog roll. You end up not knowing what to believe.
I’m sick of hearing this shit. Isn’t there some good news out there for the meeja to report on, instead of the relentless barrage of paranoia-inducing negativity they subject us to? Well fuck that. I’ve got my book in one hand, and a very large glass of malt in the other (just a touch of soda), and I’m off to bed to snuggle up to the wife. I fully expect to wake up after a good night’s sleep, to face the first day of the rest of my life, as will the overwhelming majority of us. It’s normal. I’d call that good news, but don’t expect to read about it in ‘The Mail’ or ‘The Express’. They’re just desperately waiting for an announcement about a new royal baby being on the way. That’s THEIR idea about what constitutes some good news to the rest of us. Give us a fucking break.
Nominated by Ron Knee