The morning routine
When I go to pick up my copy of the sane and stable Guardian each morning, my visit to the newsagent affords me the opportunity to gaze upon the headlines in the Hate Mail, the Torygraph, the Bum and the Daily Excrete. I am now convinced that when the Queen dies (when, not if, although some constitutional experts might dispute that) these rags will find some reason to blame Jeremy Corbyn for her demise. Their current level of pained hysteria knows no bounds. I guess some of us might find a little satisfaction in that - their almost inchoate rage perfectly exposes their impotence. Just as the abominable Johnson’s mask of false bonhomie is slipping, the rightwing press is showing us yet again how venal the true nature of our ‘free’ press is. This ‘free press,’ owned by Rothermere, the Barclay brothers, Rupert Murdoch et al are captives to a narrative which is quite possibly about to be pitched into total redundancy. Surely it cannot be the case that these rags address anybody who does not already share their views? Perhaps their only role is to cajole their readers into remaining loyal to their embittered fate.
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