ANYONE listening carefully during the closing scene of the first episode of the BBC drama Press would have heard anguished screams from newspaper sub editors all over the country.
You will need to have listened carefully – we are an endangered species after all – but the screen shot of an intro written by a deputy news editor had us (and journalists of all types) shouting at the TV.
One glance at Twitter was enough to confirm what we were all thinking after the opening episode of the tale of two competing, contrasting and neighbouring newspapers.
— Jack Hardy (@JackHardy9) September 6, 2018
Let’s not go in to too much detail of what is wrong with that (basically, all of it – too long, dull, don’t throw all the facts in the first par, local is on the banned words list on a regional paper let alone a national whose readers could be anywhere in the country, last Friday dates it, start with the news angle…)
Could that intro get any worse. “THE HUNT is on for a killer cop who mowed down a teacher and left her to die in the road.
“CCTV shows a police car smashing into Andrea Reed, 34, on her way home – then speeding off as she lay on the tarmac… MF” https://t.co/3ewbLBBrWT
— fleetstreetfox (@fleetstreetfox) September 6, 2018
It needs a complete rewrite.
On a former paper the production staff had a running joke with one ‘award-winning’ reporter in particular that copy needed so much work their byline should read ‘From an original idea by…’. Or unoriginal if we were feeling less charitable.
And who let a reporter (deputy news editor in this case) write her own headline?
Haven't yet caught up with #Press but this intro will definitely form part of my first few weeks of teaching to our new @UoGjourno first years. There is a special place in hell for writers of intros starting with the word following. https://t.co/ewrNlwTooP
— Paul Wiltshire (@Paulwiltshire) September 8, 2018
There were other complaints from journalists all over Twitter – absolutely no mention of the internet, the appalling design of The Herald, a reporter carrying out an interview without notes or recording, the lack of empty desks and swearing in the office, no feeding frenzy when free food arrives and unrealistic shortage of tea being made and consumed plus a few more niche complaints.
I won’t be happy until I hear
“Who the fuck is microwaving fish??’ being roared across the Post or Herald newsrooms#Press
— Gavan Becton (@GavBecton) September 6, 2018
Smelly food seems to be a widespread complaint – one reporter’s name was mentioned in our office when that tweet was spotted.
In fairness, Press was pretty enjoyable. One review described it as more accurate of a newspaper world from 20 years ago – the lack of internet taking precedence confirms that – and from experience in regional newsrooms, there was certainly enough there that rang true (amid a lot that didn’t).
Certainly not as bad as feared after years of watching reporters and newspapers portrayed inaccurately in dramas which have helped to colour public perceptions of our profession.
Before too many journalists bemoan television getting newspapers wrong in #Press, just remember newspapers have been getting television wrong for years. This is just payback.
— Richard Osman (@richardosman) September 6, 2018
It’s not a documentary, we get that. But getting most of the basics right is generally a good place to start and, on the whole, Press got enough right to pass muster – and enough wrong for journalists to do what they love most. Moan.
It’s not always the case. Regardless of what most people think, the press in this country is governed by laws and every trainee journalist has to learn the basics (yes, there is a well-thumbed – albeit out of date – copy of McNae’s Essential Law for Journalists in my desk).
The 10 points of what you can report from the first hearing – as dictated by The Magistrates’ Court Act 1980 – is pretty much the first thing generations of reporters learned. Before knowing where Oxdown is.
A sighting of a newspaper page in any drama normally has me squirming and watching through my fingers as they blast a headline, designed to explain as simply possible to viewers, which would break any number of legal reporting restrictions. To say nothing of the quite awful design.
Occasionally a film crew will ask the professionals to mock up a page for them – not sure what one production team didn’t like about a design we provided, the look, fact it was not simple enough or that the back page had the two people behind it promoted into the British & Irish Lions squad.
The Lions featured on a genuine back page of mine in a South Wales Echo read by Larry Lamb on the beach at Barry Island during an episode of Gavin & Stacey.
But as much as those of us who nudge pictures around pages and spend ages coming up with headlines (or until a relevant song title or lyric takes to pop into our minds – very proud of last week’s niche top cats provided with dignity effort), it is the stories which really matter.
And words matter.
Each week, send out an email to our reporters and news desk detailing things we have picked up in their copy or have cropped up in the office – be it factual errors, house style or the correct distribution of sauces in a sausage sandwich order (the important stuff).
Some of it may seem trivial, some of it is useful information, some of it drives subs nuts (misspelling the village where one of them grew up is never a good idea). There may be lots of ways to refer to councillors, but only one of them is correct in house style and it looks stupid if it varies from story to story – or paragraph to paragraph in many cases.
Yes, words matter.
One example came to my attention this week and, must admit, had not given it much thought.
Committed suicide is a recognisable phrase, very easy to slip the words together without thinking.
But committed comes from when suicide was a crime so should we really be churning it out without thinking at a time when so much effort is being put in to tackle mental health and its public perception? That’s one for the next style guide email.
And then there’s one which has had a deal of personal resonance over the years, particularly in recent weeks and months – cancer battle.
Please, no one ever say my girl @Rachael_Hodges ‘lost her battle.’ Changing thousands of lives, being a perfect mummy and wife and leaving a legacy most of us could only dream doesn’t sound much like losing to me. https://t.co/jdoR1iAI24
— Steve Bland (@blandsteve) September 6, 2018
Remarkably, Rachael Hodges was criticised by a small section of Twitter lowlife for not battling this despicable disease hard enough, regardless of her remarkable work in changing perceptions and putting people with cancer in the spotlight. Not hidden away with people unsure how to deal with them.
Describing it as a battle gives this horrible condition some form of dignity, a foe worthy of meeting on equal terms when all too often the odds have long been stacked far too heavily.
And just the whole thought of winners and losers in this situation is ridiculous.
Understand why people use the phrase and have yet to come up with much better, but suggest we try. Words matter.
Which all adds up to make it slightly ironic the last section of the A-Z trip through my iPod – you know, what this whole blog section is supposed to be about – ends with Happiness.
Was not the main feeling over the past month or so, but recent events have had the side effect of a lot of looking back at happier times and so amid the sadness there’s been a lot of smiles. And laughter.
The latest leg of the journey took us from White Denim to Teenage Fanclub and was dominated by Hallelujah – Jeff Buckley, Leonard Cohen, Nick Cave, Prefab Sprout and Juliana Richer Daily all chipping in with originals, covers and altogether different songs.
There was some terrific stuff along the way but rather than another ridiculously long paragraph listing it all, here’s some of it…
- A big thank you for the reaction and kind words following my last, untitled piece on the loss of the much-missed Nick Machin. It meant a lot. The number of hits that post has received has been ridiculous – something I’m sure says a lot more about Nick than my writing.