Press photographers in movies.
They tend to have rubbish prop cameras that don’t click right (have you ever seen a real Pap with his massive mile long lenses??).
Also they just snap away at anything, in all directions. They take pictures of the sky or the tip of a man’s chin. I’m not claiming to know the newspaper industry but I’m guessing you flop those onto the editors desk and s/he is going hand you your P45.
“Did you get the JFK assassination?”
“No, but I got a really nice cloud.”
Ditto for the above re musicians.
Witness the great actor Gerard Depardieu in Jean De Florette playing a gentle melody on his harmonica, literary swinging it left and right across his gob, like he was sawing wood. And look at Sam’s hands in Casablanca; they just go up and down like he was a Thunderbird puppet having a stroke.
Those Why Not Become a Writer? Ads in the national press.
I seriously suspect it’s not as simple as they claim. Though, come to think of it, maybe it is. You send off a cheque for £20 and the next thing you know you’re doing rather well in the top 20 Best Sellers list. It would certainly explain the success of Dan Brown and Tom Clancy.
Kids might believe in him for longer if his beard wasn’t obviously just a foot and a half of cotton wool. Kids know what a beard is. They must also look at Barney the dinosaur and get confused by such an abstract concept of teeth.
They promise so little, and deliver even less. Thousands of us queue up at Pret or M&S everyday for them, yet these sandwiches begin dieing a soggy death the moment they are sealed in those packets. You can’t spit without hitting a place that will make you a fresh one.
The only ‘fresh’ tasting pre-packed sarnie I ever had was from The Bread Shop and they had hit on the genius idea of packaging that breathes, having 1000s of little teabag-like holes.
The Great British toilet seat
What could go wrong? It’s basic hinge technology, right? That’s all the science that’s involved. Yet somehow the British make the worst toilet seats in the world. You sit, they slide sideways. You fix ‘em, they break.
Come on. He’s not happy being President of Russia. You just know he’d be a lot more at peace with himself if he was a work-a-day henchman, killing people in dark alley ways with his bare hands.
Recycled Toilet Roll
Punctured through more times than a porcupine’s pyjamas, this stuff just isn’t fit for purpose. I persevere with it simply because I object to Andrex mercilessly hacking down the rainforest. So, reluctantly, I type to you with brown fingers, imagining it will somehow help what’s left of the planet’s lungs.
Can’t get Channel Five? Freeview box only picking up The Hitler Channel? Then buy an aeriel booster, a small plastic box that sits between your aerial connection and the TV, and which is full of dried peas and sawdust. In reality the only thing it will boost is the economy of some highly productive Pacific Rim country.