Tuesday, 17 August 2010

Pooping on your own doorstep...

Well hello my little Droogies, long time no speak, which of course is entirely my fault so I apologise.

To be honest, not a lot has made my ears prick up recently (although I did receive a very funny email about a certain newspaper which I have chosen not to highlight - thanks though, you know who you are).

However, something always comes along, and an email detailing some fine, fine work by the Croydon Advertiser came up trumps.

An interesting splash last week, exposing a brothel in the borough (unfortunately, I can't provide a link as they haven't - as far as I can see - uploaded the story to their website. Can you believe that?).

Basically, a brothel has been operating in West Croydon under the guise of a massage parlour and one intrepid reporter exposed it as a fully-fledged knocking shop.

Shock horror, obviously, leading to pure admiration at the Sherlock Holmes-like detective work involved in deducing something unsavoury may be going on...

However, here is the catch. Turn to the classifieds and you find the usual assortment of ads for massage parlours and the like and yes, you guessed it, there is an ad for the very parlour exclusively revealed to be a knocking shop just 50-odd pages earlier.

How embarrassing.

Why, for God's sake, didn't someone think to check this?

We all appreciate ad revenues are falling constantly and we are struggling to prop up our rich owners, so why bother with such a story (particularly one as unoriginal as this) when you are adding to the problem yourself by giving them an outlet to advertise their 'services'?

I ask you, a newspaper that runs a story exposing a brothel which is advertising with them should be exposed as a very, very poor publication, which I am more than happy to do here.

You can't take their money then call them scum. Get a moral grip people. We all know this goes on, yet turning a blind eye is one thing, being a damn hypocrite is another entirely.

Someone needs to be hauled over some very, very hot coals for that corker. Holier than thou my arse.

And we can't even read the bloody 'Exclusive' story online anyway. If it wasn't so pathetic it would be hilarious.

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