Five Chinese Crackers: I can see the Emperor’s winky
A few weeks ago, I decided to read the Sun every day for a week with something similar in mind. I don’t know what I expected to find, but I had a vague idea that the Sun is like the Mail with a sense of humour, softer edges around its xenophobia and less prissiness about showing pictures of tits. Finding out whether this is true was supposed to do something or other. I forget what.
But something happened while I was in the middle of both of these tasks. Although I was finding out some things that I was after, I started to hear a nagging at the back of my mind that grew steadily louder with each page I turned and each crappy article I trudged through until I couldn’t ignore it any longer. It made any enthusiasm I had drain from my body in thick, snotlike ropes. “Why are you even reading this?” it asked. “This is shit.”
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