By now, some of you may be wondering what precisely my motivation to write all this rubbish actually is. Truth time: it fills half an hour of a boring day. Start sending me fan mail and I might change my mind, though. Then again, who am I kidding, nobody sends mail any more. Tradition is dead, killed by electronic gizmos like this Mac I am forced to use to type up my weekly pile of drivel. I was all for printing a proper newspaper, when I signed up I thought it would be like Steven Moffat’s “Press Gang”. How wrong I was.
You probably don’t even remember Press Gang. To be honest, neither do I, but that’s entirely beside the point. Best to forget about it and move on.
It occurs to me that since the readership of this tome is so minuscule, I can say whatever I like without attracting complaint. Even if I do get a complaint, my retort shall be that whoever made it must have done some pretty deep digging in order to find something worth complaining about. That gives me the moral high ground…or more accurately, the least lowest, but I’ll take whatever I can get.
If this was a real newspaper, I wouldn’t mind writing the cryptic crossword. I’m brilliant at those things…so long as somebody tells me the answers first. It’s by far the easiest way to get them done.