The Mail, The Sun, The Mirror and The Daily Star are all guilty of obsession with people that they label stars, whether these be criminals, drug addicts, faded soap stars, or reality trash.
There is the former glamour model (I use the term lightly) who will doubtless die, aged 47, when her implants explode, and whose six husbands and coterie of lovers will squabble over which of them will be her pallbearers.
There is the junkie soap star whose face looks like it's been run over by a bus, and who has been in and out of rehab more times than Jock Strap had his willy inside Mary Millington.
There is the never-ending saga of the missing child, which will go on until Stephen Hawkins' end-of-humanity prediction occurs. From where I'm sitting, at least two journalists are employed full-time scribbling about this.
There is the "romance" between the tattooed Irishman and his lush, both of them so thick that they wear C & A undies so they know which way to put them on.
There is the footballer who has been in more clinics than Doctor Spock, and who will end his days face-down in a pool of vomit after one tipple too many.
There is the hideously ugly American sportsperson who does not know if they are male or female, or something in between, and who has spawned the latest accessory: transgenderism. So daft that kids of five want to have a go
On and on it goes...
Now, we have a "Let's pick on Rolf Harris" day, which of course will go on for weeks until he dies, whence we will get a wealth of "Rot In Hell" headlines.
In the UK, we have laws. Nobody serves a full prison term unless they are murdering maniacs. Mr. Harris is about to be released, having served his term and behaved himself, to look after his dying wife. The tabloids are baying for his blood. They want him and two very nice footballers who happened to use their cocks instead of their brains (but on whose side I will always be) to be dragged to some modern-day Tyburn and strung up.
Whatever Mr. Harris did was years ago. I am hard put to remember some of the things that happened to me in 1975, but these "victims" of course can remember every little detail. Why they wait such a long time to jump onto the bandwagon is another matter. I would suggest it's not justice they want, but money.
It's okay for the British tabloids to victimise old men who are in no position to fight back, and to write thoroughly pointless "exclusives" on any of the above which appear at an hourly rate on their on-line pages...but what about all the REAL stories that they are covering up? Why don't they have the guts to employ journalists to write stories that might have some impact on our society--such as reporting criminals, paedophiles and the like, that they are well aware of, and that they have known about for some time? Criminals that are active, ere we speak. They knew all about Jimmy Savile. And who in their right mind is going to believe that silly story of how Rolf Harris shoved his hand inside a television presenter's knickers, on live television and while an entire crew was standing around?
Why don't our tabloids NAME the felons who are known to them, and who are doing damage to our children and young people NOW instead of decades ago? Why do they wait until they are dead to hold an enquiry?
There's a simple answer to this. They don't have the guts.