So who wants to hire me as a plucky, eager to learn, new journalist then, eh? Anyone? Anyone at all? Oh, that’s right, NO ONE. That’s why I’m sitting in my pyjamas, in my parents’ house, writing this blog that has as much cultural impact as an interview with one of my coat hangers (see my next blog for sensational interview with said coat hanger).
For many of us would-be journalists, blogging about our bitter, isolated lives in our bleak little bedrooms will be as far as our careers will ever reach. And yet in the midst of this darkness a new hope has arisen, a hope so beautiful that I feel a somewhat unexplainable resentment towards her; that’s right ladies and gentlemen, the name of that hope is Samantha Brick.
In 2012 journalist Samantha Brick wrote an article for our old friend the Daily Mail online entitled “There are Downsides to Looking This Pretty”: Why Women Hate Me for Being Beautiful. Who could have possibly predicted the frenzied, near hysterical reaction of the British public to her frank and shocking words? Well, obviously, she did. That’s why she wrote it. Sure, now loads of people hate her. And the more people that hate her, the more people that read her articles, and the more people that read her articles, the more money she makes. Duh.
There has always been a market for shock confession journalism, but using the immense popularity of the Daily Mail online has allowed Samantha to take this form to alarming new heights of success. Now many other female journalists are just giddy to “do a Brick” as it were. Kate Thompson declared herself “Britain’s worst wife” last month and this week we had Siam Goorwich informing us just how dandy life is staying at home sponging off her mum. Hopefully now with the publication of this article she’ll finally have earned enough money to move out; good for you Siam.
If I had any sense of journalistic integrity, I’d question the reasons behind this recent flurry of female journalists reduced to writing these shock confessions in order to gain money and publicity. Could it be something to do with the inherent sexism that women face in a world where 74% of national news journalists are men and women make up just over a quarter of the work force in places such as The Independent? Could it be that statistics such as these, combined with a financial climate determined to quash any shooting buds of creativity in its path, is stifling the intelligent female voice that we fought so hard to establish?
Fortunately for me I don’t have any journalistic integrity so I’ll leave you to ponder those questions whilst I make my own attempt to break into the shock confession genre and make LOADSAMONEYWHEEEY. I have studied the Daily Mail format closely and established that the more controversial the confession, the better. This, added to concise bullet points and lots of photos, makes for the perfect shock confession success story. Now, before I send it to the Daily Mail, here’s a small preview just for you.
“I LIKE TO MURDER PEOPLE…FOR FUN”
• Rebecca Hussein is 23 years old and admits that her secret hobby is not for everyone
• Started murdering people for fun when she was just four years old
• She’s got an ethnic surname so what did you expect really?
Sitting in my bathroom, washing the blood off of youthful, curvaceous, naked body, I find myself stifling a laugh. I’ve only gone and done it again, haven’t I? I can’t help it. I just bloody love murdering people! This time it was the egg man. There he was, innocently going about his rounds, leaving a dozen eggs at the doorsteps of us cheery Dagenham folk when I felt my familiar compulsion.
“Wait!” I cried as he began walking away down our garden path, whistling a jaunty tune. What a working-class hero that man is! Truly, he is what makes Britain great! What a fantastic pillar of our community! Well, he was all of those things, that is, before I murdered him!!!!!!! AHAHAHA.
The murder itself was over in flash but then again, I have become very skilled at it over the years. It all started when I was four years old and a friend and I were playing by some fields as my father often left us unsupervised because he is ethnic. There we were, frolicking about in the beautiful green pastures of England when my friend slipped into well. “Help me!” she cried. “I really wasn’t expecting there to be a well here!” Perhaps it has something to do with my ethnic surname, or the fact that my mother has a job but, for whatever reason that day, I simply pulled up the lid of the well, and left her there…
Ooooh liked my shock confession did you? Dying to here more, are you? Well look out for the rest of my outrageous story on the Daily Mail online. That’s right suckers, goodbye penniless blog, hello successful paid journalist!