Nadia Gilani

Brixton Prison Radio

2009-05-28T21:38:00.007Z

I POPPED into Brixton today to meet the Governor, Paul McDowell and his deputy governor, Amy Rees.

I've always wanted to get into a prison, and having passed it on the bus to work over the last six months, I finally made it.

The prison was splashed all over the papers earlier this month and I did a feature for SLP after the in-house radio station - Electric Radio Brixton won four Sony Radio Awards against the likes of the BBC, which was pretty impressive.

The station is run by inmates who have to do six-weeks of media training run by the Prison Radio Association before they can get into the studio.

Brixton is a bit different as it's a remand prison and turnover is high as inmates are awaiting trial and move on after being sentenced.

I was struck by how open and honest Paul and Amy were, and happy to talk about whatever I raised, which was surprising and refreshing in a situation of such tight security.

It took a while to get in - there are locks on every door and no two doors can be open at the same time, and it's a pretty compact place with around 800 prisoners and 400 odd staff.

I didn't get a tour of the place this time but as we talked about stories I could cover in future, Paul, who himself sets aside one hour a month for governor's questions came up with the idea of me going in and being interviewed about working as a journalist.

I was speechless and jumped at the chance to write a feature about the experience.

I suspect it might take a while getting used to being asked the questions, but hey it'll be interesting.

And the pay off is that next time I've been promised a tour.

Joanna Lumley goes Down

2009-05-27T21:26:00.003Z

THINGS were looking Ab Fab in Stockwell not too long ago when actress Joanna Lumley was spotted looking elegant in an understated long black coat and laden with a giant bouquet of posies (not gurkhas). On her way to visit someone it would seem. But it is hard to say whether she made it at all, judging by the number of times she was stopped along Clapham Road for her autograph.

OK So Where I Been?

2009-05-25T06:49:00.009Z

EVERYWHERE but here it feels.

In the middle of a murder scene, talking to kids about their views on the ever controversial police tactic of stop and search, chatting up people in the street for a vox pop, racing to a yoga class, leaning as far over a police cordon as is possible without crossing it in order to squint for a quote off a tribute note.

Walking around on patch sniffing around for a lead, holding a candle at a vigil commemorating the Brixton bomb, grabbing a coffee, chasing MPs, not chasing MPs, meeting Boris more oft than anyone else for some inexplicable reason and happily causing a fuss with him over the East London Line on Platform 2 at Clapham Junction train station.

Writing about jobless estate agents who set up a pest control business and spending time summing my daily life in a nib on exhibitionist networking space, Facebook of course.

Riveting you say. Well, yes. And there's more to come. Watch this space. Now, how do I upload pictures using my shiny new mac?

South London Press

2008-12-07T22:28:00.004Z

I was at a leaving drinks on Wednesday with my colleagues and although it was a lively and enjoyable affair, the surreal thing about it was that it was for me.
I start at the South London Press on Monday December 8. Theres a faint sadness to be leaving Enfield underneath all of the anticipation for what’s to come, but for the same reason that I’ve watched outstanding former colleagues move on, it’s time for a change.
I’ve been in Enfield for 20 months and was reaching my natural leaping time. I’ll always remember it because it’s a good patch on which I learnt so much about being a good journalist.
It’s where I started out, the place I did the first of many death knocks, the area I came across teenagers wearing stab proof vests and where I grafted the bare essentials of what it takes to perform in the trade.
There’s a lot that goes down in South London, and the Press is going to be an exciting challenge. For a start, it comes out twice a week and covers Lewisham, Southwark, Wandsworth and Lambeth, which is the area I’m assigned to.
I don’t suspect there's such a thing as a quiet day down there, which is why it sounded like an opportunity not to be missed and I grabbed it.

Comment not so free

2008-10-03T07:08:00.002Z

CENSORSHIP is such a spineless and pointless idea.
The futile thing about trying to ban something is that the persons being gagged are likely to find another way to express themselves and get their "offensive" material out some other way anyway so the censors may as well not bother in the first place.
Aside from raging against a universal human right, censorship reeks of supremacy and panders to creation of a nanny-state, where everyone walks around with blinkers on without an opinion, unable to deal with a bit of confrontation or whiff of a thought provoking idea.
Journalism is about pushing boundaries, and yet, in some parts of the world the idea of this terrifies those in power so much, you are more likely to be killed if you are a journalist than an endangered animal. It's worth mentioning that the internet is censored in North Korea, so
perhaps we should count ourselves lucky for our freedoms in this country.
But free access to Google doesn't ignore the fact that censorship that results in dumbing down a public that's perceived as incapable of making their own decisions does exist this side of the Atlantic.
Banning something that "might" provoke outrage is clearly used by those in power as a way to avoid dealing with issues that are being raised. It's being in denial, and it's patronising, to think yourself qualified to decide what information the public can and can't have access too. Did I mention it's arrogant?
It's unlikely that we'll ever have a world where free expression never leads to offence on occasion. But that's no reason to snuff it out and render it altogether invisible.
Turn the television off if you don't like what your seeing, hurl your book aside if you don't like what you're reading. Problems are not solved by banning words. Everyone knows that supressing something so as not to rock the boat doesn't work, and the boat rocks anyway so you may as well set it free and deal with it.

Keep Quiet

2008-10-03T07:00:00.003Z

LAST week I innocently wrote a bit along the lines of the below for my blog entry on our website, http://www.enfield-today.co.uk/.
By the afternoon the following day, the offending material was scrapped as,"unacceptable", by the publisher and ripped from the web page.
I'll admit I was pushing the boat out a bit, I guess I subconsciously wanted to see how far it would sail before it was noticed.
I'm greatful that none of my colleagues on the editorial side of things thought my comments were aggressive and supported my small moment of anarchy.
So, this week I felt it apt to scribble something on censorship. See above.

Silly Season

2008-09-25T20:48:00.006Z

THE newsroom is cloaked with a faint heaviness and everyone is feeling weary.

Having survived the not-too-silly-season that was August and after gearing up for an Autumn of hard news, an event we were unprepared for has frozen us in our pace.

We were told at the end of last week that the 137-year-young Enfield Gazette is going to be axed, leaving most of us reeling with shock and disbelief. That, and the fact that one of us is going to lose our job within a month.

There was no warning sign prior to our publisher's announcement but having sat through the ten or fifteen minutes it took her to deliver the news a swathe of nausea swept through the office and all of us had to get outside for some air.

The tragedy of this circumstance is that not only is the decision resulting in the death of a newspaper but one of us is going to be stuck without a means to live.

We are of course fighting the decision, and today went public with it, trying to get as many contacts, politicians and community groups as possible to write to the owner, Sir Ray Tindle in a bid to save it, and save us.

But at the moment I'm feeling pretty numb about the whole thing. And angry that it's all happening too fast.

The Sun - We Love It

2008-09-12T19:47:00.003Z

AS with most newspaper offices, we have the nationals delivered daily.This means we’ve all read - or at least have looked at almost everything that’s going on around about the time some of our readers are reaching for their cornflakes.
We’re allocated a different paper each month, which I imagine is intended to keep our brains ticking over nicely since we’re not stuck with the same reading matter for two long. Last month I was mulling over the cerebral prose of the Telegraph, which can be a toughie. Not least because of its shape and size. There’s a part of me that enjoys it’s defiant shape - it’s the only paper that’s not buckled under the pressure to re-size.

But it’s a challenge to manage when your desk is already littered with paper. There have been times it’s just been easier to plonk myself on the floor and read it there. Most of us don’t tend to stick to the sole title assigned to us anyway, with loyalties lying elsewhere. If you return to your desk and find your paper’s gone, chances are you’ll know who’s nabbed it. There's a reporter on our sister paper the Barnet Press who has a thing for The Guardian’s G2 - as do I.
A fellow Enfieldian who sits next to me is known for snatching The Sun come lunchtime.

It seems a sandwich doesn’t taste the same without the tabloid punch of a red-top. Now that The Sun’s mine for a month I’m becoming convinced.

And of course, being a London rag as we are, everyone wants the Standard.

Usually all at the same time.

Big Brothel

2008-09-06T08:52:00.005Z

A REPORT on London’s brothels that I’ve been waiting for was published this week.
The Poppy Project's Big Brothel survey of the off-street sex industry in London punches alarming insight into not only the sheer volume of what's going on in my patch, but also the culture of workings within it.
All of the covert research was gained by investigating sex-services advertised in the back-end of local newspapers. And the Enfield Gazette was one of the papers listed.
Almost everyone is our newsroom doesn’t want those ads in our paper. And yet, advertising bosses don’t look like they’re anywhere near axing them.
The highest number of brothels was found in Westminster with 71. There were 54 in Enfield. Only 8 were found in Southwark, which has admirably banned classified ads offering commercial sex.
To give a flavour of the bleak reality of what's on the menu in the capital's brothels, you can get full sex for £15.
The average age of a woman available for purchase is 21. Most pricey is anal sex in Enfield, which averages between £80 to £200. Kissing, something we thought was off limits is £20. Kissing, oral or anal without a condom can be got for an extra tenner.
The sad fact is that much of the rest of the report's detail won't make the story.
My job is to report the news, keep the facts simple and fill a tiny space on a page, leaving it up to readers interested in the between-the-lines stuff to dig out a copy of the 60-odd-page report for themselves.
The Poppy Project, which exists to help trafficked into the UK for prostitution, doesn’t believe that prostitution should be tolerated, i.e. regulated, a view that is becoming an increasingly popular solution to a growing exploitative industry.
Male prostitutes and both male and female customers aside for a moment, the simple fact is that there is no other way in which, gender inequality is supported more starkly than in the case of prostitution. Here, men and women are constructed fundamentally as, buyer and bought, highly sexed and sexual object, hunter and prey, master and slave.
There are arguments told that prostitution is a choice. Common myths spout that “men need sex”, “prostitutes enjoy sex”, and a most abhorrent view that “prostitution prevents rape.”
Napoleon claimed in 1827 that prostitutes were a necessity because without them, men would attack respectable women on the streets.
And despite this idea that men are seen as innocent victims of their biological sexual desires being sheer bollocks, it is a view still held.
Women are shrouded with shame, seen as dirty and worthless – and we may as well be honest here –meat.
Yes, it doesn’t sound so good put like that does it? But the truth isn’t always.
It’s not clear what will happen in light of the research, which while challenges the situation, doesn’t look likely to spell the end of it.

Coming of Age

2008-08-28T20:04:00.003Z

YOUTHFULL good looks will only get you so far in life, believe me I know. Well, perhaps less of the "good", but I expect I do face discrimination for my looksmore often than I rightfully should.I get ID'd all of the time – for alcohol.

A non-exhaustive survey has found that it's most usually in supermarkets. I've got a handful of different ways that I try to avoid it. Most of the time I mind my own business and pray. Sometimes I feign tiredness, looking like an exhausted office-worker in want of a quiet night in. Other times I'll offer a scrap of conversation, and ask the shop assistant how they are doing. It doesn't always work.

My latest worst-case-senario was in a mini-Tesco near Liverpool Street Station on a Sunday afternoon, I was at the pointless invention that is the self-service till, which broke down half-way through bleating "approval needed". A woman came to assist but then asked if I had any ID when she saw the giant bottle of Grey Goose vodka in my grip. "Oh no please don't ID me today" I pleaded, "It's for a present". I got out my press card and various other miscellany to prove my case. None of it passed. I left seething and devoid of a gift for my friend.I couldn't understand it then and I still cannot fathom it now.

Some shop assistants clearly don't have any sense of culture. My basket contained a loaf of the store's "finest" bread, The Observer, an over-priced organic rocket and watercress salad and one of the top-of-the-range vodkas you can buy. Hardly a cocktail for causing anti-social behaviour in a dodgy park corner.

Most people close to me know that I absolutely loathe supermarkets, but the red wine selection (my most frequent beverage of choice) is oft available in ample supply with a fair selection to choose from. And of course the superstores are open late, so it looks like I'm resigned.Enter: ID cards. Shrouded in controversy of course. But I realise I may have to apply for one of some description if my life is to continue with a certain semblance of dignity.

Hello Again

2008-07-23T21:56:00.003Z

OK, so the first thing you’re probably wondering is why I’m here after an absence for so long.
Would be future editors might not be impressed by a reporter who sets up a blog then rarely shows up. I can only say that it’s because there are times when you’re brain’s fried to a crisp and you feel you’ve written so much that there are no more words left in you that the thought of going home to yet more time facing a laptop can leave you paralysed in fear.
I’ll add that if you trawl back to previous postings at the time I set this thing up before my news training. Then, during and after it I was on here daily, several times a day on occasion, I couldn’t keep away.
Funnily enough, the reason for my return has probably been prompted because our editor has informed us he wants a weekly blog entry from each of us after out new website goes live. When? Soon.
With no word limit or censorship over subject matter he’s given us free rein to say what we want. The deal is that we just ensure we do it.
Everyone’s being a bit resistant so far. Not due to apathy or lethargy but I expect because we’re more rehearsed at writing about other people’s opinions rather than our own.
Still, needs must. I’ve no clue as to what my first entry should be about. I’m torn between doing a bit of a behind-the-scenes of what goes down in our newsroom or a read-between-the-lines stuff that doesn’t make it into the paper of some of my stories. Having spoken to other reporters and undergone work experience up and down the country in different newsrooms none of them is the same.
All of them have been unconventional and entertaining.
Equally, some of places and conversations that stories often take us are worthy of a write up in themselves.
So I guess watch this space.

Work Wear

2008-04-08T06:46:00.003Z

THE dilemma when it comes to dressing for work is how to keep your fashion credentials and still dress appropriately.
If you’re a goth in your spare time, you’ll clearly have to leave yourdarker side at home. So what do you wear instead? It all depends on your office’s etiquette. The dress-code expected of a PA at a law firm will clearly differ from that required of an employee at a call centre that could frankly do the job in bedraggled bedwear. Women around a boardroom table might choose to dress in clothes akin to their male colleagues in a bid to assert who’s really wearing the trousers.But such a severe look isn’t necessary. Style Council holds fast to the truth that it is possible to revel in the joys of looking feminine and still be taken seriously.
So some useful pointers to note: if your workspace isn’t all about tailored suits and allows room for play, invest in a selection of separates - trousers, skirts tops and sweaters, means you can just reach for one of each and compose outfits daily without panic.
You can’t go wrong with crisp blouses or shirts. White is a good staple. But if that leaves you feeling flat, then play with stripes, different sleeve lengths, bold colours and prints.
On the point of skin and whether to bear or not, less is more. A suggestion of decolletage, or knee is preferable to a plunging neckline or balcony-bra’ed cleavage.
And if all else fails, on days you’re devoid of inspiraton, there’s always the fashion police’s choice du jour of black.
But remember to accessorise. Jewellery, a belt, scarf or jazzy handbag adds character and will stop you from looking like mime-artist Marcel Marceau.
And whatever you wear, a great manicure will render you impeccable.

Agyness Deyn

2008-04-07T06:45:00.005Z

OUR resident fashionista took leave for New York so I had the job of filling in her Style Council column this week. The task was to scribe some advice on what to wear to work and rant over model Agyness Deyn.

The rant follows below:

SUPERMODEL Agyness Deyn has become fashion’s hottest twiglet on the catwalk and SC is getting pretty bored of the whole thing. She’s been fetishised on the fashion pages of every international style bible as an irrestible rags to riches maverick woman that’s swopped working in a Lancashire chip shop serving up chip butties and saveloys for the restof life in lieu of a career stomping catwalks of the world.

Granted, the fact that her determinedly tomboyish-looks have generated so much hype in an industry obsessed with an homogenous code on what it means to be feminine and sexy is to be commended.

But you can’t open a magazine without being greeted with that gangly frame, unkempt ragamuffin platinum crop and eighties day-glo clobber she cobbles together in a seemingly thrown-together fashion that’s become her signature style.

She’s the face of this, the body of that and meant to embody the spirit of pretty much everything else.

SC senses a situation of over-kill coming on.

The good news is that fashion is fickle so let’s hope that this is a trend isn’t one that lasts.

Postscript: Having said all of that, I've purposely chosen one of the hottest shots of her foraged off the web for the purposes of this blog. Hey, if you're going to add to the over-kill, you may as well enjoy it. So do.

Newsprint

2008-04-03T07:56:00.005Z

I google-image searched the word newsprint.
And what have we here?
Is this an advert? Advertising what?
The fact that it’s sexy to read the papers?
Is it ironic?
A scantily clad woman just happens to be catching up on what’s going on in the world, while wearing stuff that makes you want to rip it off her and read too (while she gets back down on her hands and knees in servitude and tends to your pleasures).
Or is it another fine example of a woman’s body being fetishied as a commodity for the voyeuristic consumer?
I don’t like it.

And defy anyone that says their looking at her face.

Court Notes Confiscated - CORRECTIONS

2008-02-16T10:59:00.006Z

REPORTS of my journalistic rights being trodden on below have been published in this week's Press Gazette after Johnathan Lovett, our arts don at the paper and NUJ rep suggested I tell them.

Holdthefrontpage.co.uk soon got word and were able to give the story more space, including a quote from my editor, Gary.
To say that Gary is livid would be an understatement. He hates any kind of authority overstepping the mark and rightly so.
But I did put up a fight.
I'm not a mouse and never let officials off lightly in interviews.
But it can be intimidating in a court room and my disappointing mistake was complying in the end on this occasion.
Now I'm angrier than I was before in my resolve to fight for press freedom and won't be letting anything like this get in my way again.

For the record the only true account of what really happened lies herein my blog. I did not hand the usher my notebook - but tore out a single sheet. The court has not appologised to either me or Gary directly. And I was not talking to other reporters as the court is quoted as claiming elsewhere. I was the only reporter in courtroom Four of Wood Green Crown Court that day.
The people talking were from the Department for Work and Pensions - one of whom was told to leave for trying to record the proceedings in a benefit fraud case - something all adept reporters know is in contempt of court and thus highly illegal.

I always find it amusing when I'm faced with health bosses, council chiefs or police, who are always armed with an entourage and so careful about eveything they say when sat across the table.
But it baffles me is why courts faff around so much in the presence of reporters.
If we publish something that's not meant to be made public, we're the ones that are going to get in trouble - not them, so it's utterly incomprehensible.

There are jobs that are respected and admired - and then there's journalism.
I've always enjoyed that sense of risk and mischief that our trade exudes.
Being a journalist is a thankless task that's never really bothered me. We are not ones who are ever going to have rose petals strewn in out paths and we don't expect to.
It's just ironic that no-one would have a clue what was going on in the world were it not for what we do.

Law out of Order

2008-02-13T22:03:00.004Z

LAST week at court my notes got taken from me.
I was at Wood Green Crown court to report on a case that had a section 39 of the Children and Young Person’s Act reporting restriction on it.
When you see things like “who cannot be named for legal reasons” or “a 17-year-old has been charged” instead of an actual name, in a story you can be sure that there is an S.39 hovering nearby.
Simply put, it’s there to protect the identity of a young person mentioned in a case.
But it’s not infallible. Last year, I successfully challenged an S.39 after asking the court to lift the ban based on a matter of public interest as it was a high-profile case - covered in the nationals and the defendant had killed someone.

Back to date, I was three quarters down my first page of notes and a bespectacled usher who looked like a dodgy librarian appeared.
She said that I wasn’t allowed to take any notes due to the reporting restriction and could I tear the page out please.
And what precisely do you want me to do with it? I wanted to ask.
She even had the audacity to ask me if I knew what an S. 39 was.
I understand that courts don’t tend to like journalists but she was wrong so I told her that.
I was well within my rights to report on the case - as long as I didn’t breach the S.39 order.
She confiscated the page, plonked herself on a bench nearby and copied out my shorthand while I looked on agog.
I was stupefied, feeling both furious and paralysed with panic, uncertain of what to do.
She passed a note to the clerk. I quickly scrawled one of my own.
As I approached the clerk, he handed me a note back that read: “take notes but no publicity”.
He was wrong too. Publicity is exactly what I was there for.
No time to argue I raced back to my seat and got back to doing my job.
But not before unfolding the piece of paper that the clerk had written his note to me on the back of.
It said: “I’ve taken the notes said if you agreed she can have them back. She is a reporter and reckons she knows what a sec 39 is so I still took them and said she can ask you for them back.”
Upon release, I phoned the news desk and got it off my chest.
We ranted about the bane of our lives having to face court staff that know less about legal workings than we do.
It’s like having to tell one of Jesus’ Wise Men that the son of God’s mother was a virgin.
Next time I’m taking my copy of Mcnae’s Essential Law for Journalists to wave in the air if that same usher or otherwise tries to stop me from doing what reporters were put on this earth to do.

Moving On Up

2008-01-23T07:40:00.001Z

WE move out of our office on Friday. Ok, so it’s only to the fourth floor – we’re currently on the first.
Its been dark in there these days so we’re all looking forward to the promise of loftier sights above.
But it’s all a bit surreal at our place at the moment - somehow sparse and dishevelled at the same time.
Bits of desk have already been stolen from us and carted off to Basildon for reasons unexplained.
And thankfully, most of our recycling has been dumped, after we all got on our hands and knees a couple of weeks ago and filled sacks with yellowing council documents and the like.
The de-junk part is starting to feel a bit cathartic.
But our desks are in disarray.
I can’t see our editor, Gary anymore from where he sits a row behind me, for all the papers and stacks of crates srouding me into my corner.
And my desk, has managed to take on an even heavier cloak of chaos than is cope-able with.
But Gary’s hanging onto his nerves and chugging out his four titles for deadline with admirable fervour, and we’re following suit.
We’ve been banished from the office on Friday morning so that he can direct the removal men with us “crazy cats” as he calls us out of the way.

Daylight Street Stab Death in Edmonton

2008-01-22T22:25:00.000Z

A SECOND teenager was stabbed to death in Edmonton yesterday – in broad daylight this time.
And kebab-loving, I’m-scared-of-the-dark, home secretary Jacqi Smith wants schools to install metal detectors in schools to stop youths carrying knives (see the nationals for more).
I’ve no idea what the answer is to put an end to all of this youth-on-youth crime.
Enfield police told me in an interview that knife crime is going down, and the figures show this to be true.
But they also admitted that Edmonton is a hot-spot problem area.
It’s time to stop sticking to stats and look at the underlying issues.
No one’s asking why a growing trend for teenage violence is sweeping across London at such a rapid rate.
Since most knife attacks happen outside of school, it makes more sense for the focus to be on the streets. And for energies to be spent on investigating what’s making youths want to carry a knife in the first place.
Rather than simply prosecuting them when they do.

Knifed in the New Year

2008-01-02T22:13:00.001Z

LONDON’S first stabbing of the year took place on our patch – in Edmonton, Enfield.
I say first because regrettably if last years number of 27 teenagers killed in violent attacks is anything to go by, there will be more.
In 2007, eight victims were shot, one was beaten to death and most of the rest were stabbed.
Last week, I reported on a stabbing (not fatal) that happened on a bus on an afternoon just three days before Christmas.
Today, I dashed down to the crime scene on the way to the office to get the news on the latest incident, spoke to residents, got the quotes and filed for tomorrows Gazette.
Henry Bolombi, was on a night bus, returning home with a bunch of nine friends from a new year party. He was 18.
The group was chased by a gang of youths after stepping off the bus before the murder at about 6:30am.
This is London in the 21st century.
It’s shocking and not so shocking at the same time.
As much as London is a paranoid city wedged within a neurotic country harbouring a society under constant surveillance courtesy of CCTV cameras, we’re are in turn a society sick with an infectious virus – the desire to kill by violence.
The reason behind what drives such attacks – many of them carried out by criminals that are getting younger and younger is incomprehensible.
As journalists we must get on with the job of reporting the facts.
I won’t doubt that it’s not exciting running around in the middle of live events that turn into breaking hard news.
But it’s not true that doing it day in day out toughens our skins beyond feeling.
On my own way home tonight, I started thinking about our editor Gary O’Keeffe who’s cousin, Stuart was murdered two years ago.
It’s horrid, heartbreaking.
Here’s a link to him talking about it on his blog on Stuart’s anniversary last month:
http://blog.enfieldadvertiser.co.uk/archives/2007/12/a_life_lost_ove.html

Festive Cheer

2007-12-28T07:27:00.001Z

CHRISTMAS wouldn’t be the same at a newspaper without tighter-than-tight deadlines. The week before the main event we were writing for three papers instead of the usual two before the week was out. All the while planning for the fourth.
I’m sure it’s the same everywhere, but you notice as a reader that dailies come out as they always do, only they look leaner and so are faster to get through.
But the news journalists can’t really write in advance so their deadlines are still daily – albeit earlier on in the day.
For those of us on weeklies we have to ensure that we get our dates in the right order so that we’re clear about when things are happening. This isn’t always easy when you’re writing for several papers at the same time that come out on different days, about stuff before it happened, when the readers will see the paper after it has. Confused? There were moments we were too.
But it was all quite funny really.
The layout-plans for the final paper that we are to produce during this writing-with-no-sense-of real-time situation, will come out today at midday for us to fill.
And I'm just starting to get the hang of this time-warp just when it's all over.
But hey -good practice for the same again next year I guess.
Happy Winterville and a merry new year!

Benazir Bhutto Assassinated

2007-12-27T21:41:00.000Z

BENAZIR Bhutto was killed today. Assassinated.

A bomb exploded next to the vehicle she was in during a rally in Rawalpindi in a gun and suicide bomb attack.
There’ve been several attempts on the Pakistan opposition leader's life before, which is why she's been living in exhile and only returned to her home-country in October.

She's renowned for wearing a bullet-proof vest in public.
Well, somebody got her in the end.
For her supporters it will be a sad loss - some of whom might seek revenge.
For those that hate her, it will be an utter triumph.

I’d say it must be pretty sad to know that there are a hefty number in the latter camp, which leads to you having to wear a protective armour in the first place.
But there you go.
It was breaking hard stuff that flashed onto our computer screens in the newsroom today and stopped me still - only for a brief moment though.
Then I rushed to put the television on.
We all looked on in silence and intrigue.

Before postponing our interest for a couple of hours in order to do our own stories.

Pakistan was a country already in political crisis.

Now things are likely to flare up even more.
Ongoing reports will continue anon no doubt.

It'll be on all the fronts tomorrow.

And I am poised to see what unfolds.

Tis the season to feel heavy

2007-12-27T21:11:00.000Z

POST Crimbo and there are many people who may be feeling worse for wear having succumbed a notch too far during the season of indulging in too much of everything, leaving them sitting around feeling like sackfuls of cement, unable to move.
Not so for the four of us covering the office over the holiday period.
Things have been quiet back at the ranch.
A woman from the advertising department said: “It’s like a morgue”, and groaned.
I quite like it.
There’s a ghostly feel in the air, with a mischievous tinge to it – as though we shouldn’t be there. Then the phone rings and it’s obvious why we are.
It’s like feeling a fluttering breeze after the frenzied storm we swept through last week.
A time to wind down, reflect on a messy desk and find those scoops to fire off come the new year.

Quotes of the year - 2007

2007-12-17T23:16:00.000Z

A FEW, as foraged from today's Guardian:

The fear of missing out means today's media, more than ever before, hunts in a pack. In these modes it is like a feral beast, just tearing people and reputations to bits.

(Former Prime Minister) Tony Blair

Newspapers have a good future. A laptop runs out of battery and you can't tuck it under your arm.

Google co-founder Larry Page

I have never acted on a press release or gone out to dinner with a PR. I think PR is a ridiculous job. They are the headlice of civilisation.

Journalist and food writer AA Gill

You have all let me down. You are a disgrace.

The Sun editor, Rebekah Wade emails her staff after the Daily Mirror got a Pete Doherty scoop

The only people who wear ties daily are male politicians and reporters and dodgy estate agents.

BBC journalist Jeremy Paxman

I've had worse press than a paedophile or a murderer, and I've done nothing but charity for 20 years.

Heather Mills McCartney on GMTV

Piers Morgan

2007-10-17T21:14:00.000Z

I WROTE to Piers Morgan.
And wonderful news - his PA wrote back.
After I’d read both of his autobiographical books, The Insider and Don’t You Know Who I Am? - I had too.
As a trainee reporter you have to admire the man – for his tenacity, drive and skill at what he does – not forgetting an all important ability to entertain and keep people interested.
In my letter, I suggested an idea.
The fact that what I would really find interesting to read now would be a book about his experiences of starting out in journalism on a local paper i.e.doing what I am doing now.
I want to read about his first death knock, his fears and excitement on the job, and all the challenges he faced and how he progressed from there.
Ms Chapman said that Piers Morgan thanked me for the comments about his books, which were "very much appreciated". And "Good luck with your reporting at Enfield Advertiser and Gazette".
I’m hopeful he will consider the idea in future. Watch this space.
Here is a man that edited the News of the World aged 28.
And was eventually sacked from his high-profile job spear-heading the Daily Mirror over publication of some photographs of British soldiers torturing Iraqi’s, which were later found to be fakes.
I’ve met a lot of people who feel animosity towards him over that scandal and his connection with a froth-spinning red-top.
But I believe his take on the fact that he didn’t know they were fake until it was too late.
And so what if they were fake – they didn’t ignore the fact that torture’s gone on in Iraq.
While we are here. Since a journalist’s job is to tell the truth and the pictures didn’t, it was probably right that he was sacked. Many of the greats have been – another most notable for me was former director general of the BBC Greg Dyke.
Not many people like journalists.
But then a lot of people don’t like hearing the truth.
And that’s what we make a living in telling.

Ring around 13 Spikes

2007-10-16T20:17:00.001Z

IF I got married I reckon I'd want to wear a ring like this.
Well actually I probably wouldn't. Aside from the fact that I would never be able to afford it - my political views wouldn't allow it.
It would be unethical to spend so much money on an accessory all for your single self.
It could be argued that it would last for a life-time in a way that a coat wouldn't.
But you could probably feed the starving world with the money this ring would beg in a single transaction.
Everytime I see high-end fashion pieces and the obscene amounts of cash demanded for it I feel a bout of nausea run through me.
As lovely as all the perfect-cut clothes, shoes, bags and the rest look - are they really necessary? Of course not.
Therefore it's a fact I find hard to condone in others and could never in my sane mind bring myself to do - if I had all the money in the world. Cliched but true.
I prefer simplicity and the ad-hoc spoils to be found after a rummage through charity shop rails. That kind of recycling to me makes more sense.
Because we live - and I'm speaking of the Western world here, in a place that is already so full of stuff its suffocating.
But then again in that same world that thrives on the next and newest best thing it is sometimes hard not to get carried away with the fanciful drivel thrown at you - see the self-confessing first line of this blurb.

On its own, it is a beauty.
It's called 13 Spike Ring - 18 carat gold and black rhodium with rubies.
The creation of British designer, Hannah Martin who makes men's jewellery or what I call "bloke's bling".
She says it's: "Jewellery for the decadent and dissolute. Derived from the masculinity of a rock and roll lifestyle.
"Welcome to a world of the fierce and glamorous where hedonism rules with opulance and men will find treasure beyond their wildest dreams."
That's a nice bit of copy but I fear unconvincing.
But if I suspend my disbelief and pretend I'm someone else I can almost believe her - for a moment and as long as it doesn't have a price tag.
For finding that out and knowing that there are people willing to pay for it would probably have me shouting to whomever is near enough "bring me a basin I want to be sick."