Paul Dacre

Paul Dacre
Story maker
Is the news:
The carrion will carry on
His power moves.
For him, the higher glory
Of new carpets for his perfect shoes
And even further distance
From the victims of his views.
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Dear Daily Mail

Daily Mail, why are you so angry? Your front page is, yet again, so disappointingly petty. It implies that you do not understand what is at stake if the Government is not held to scrutiny and account. Of course, you are not the only newspaper to constantly be furious but you are the daily publication that the government and Today would seem to pay most attention to.

Why aren’t you over this silly and divisive behaviour, though? Why do you feel so threatened? Don’t you like the idea of Parliamentary sovereignty, anymore? The people keep being told that there will be no second referendum and I keep reading about polls saying that even Remain voters don’t want to stop Brexit. Your sense of betrayal is very odd, Daily Mail. Is the “will of the people” not made indelible? And does not Brexit mean Brexit? Do you regret your enthusiasm for triggering Article 50 so that you could just get on with it? You said that you knew what you were voting for.

I think you’re being ridiculous. And mean. Yesterday was a good day for Humanity and Democracy. For a start, we woke up to discover that that awful, bigoted, misogynist, Islam-hating cowboy and Trump-licker, Roy Moore had lost Alabama to a Democrat. A Democrat won in Alabama! It uplifted our hearts and restored some faith. And then, we went to sleep, knowing that here, at home, some true public servants had bravely fought a righteous battle for the well-being of our own country. And they won! We felt the joy of small but significant progress. It was one good day after a drought. Why would you begrudge us that, Daily Mail? You can afford to be bigger than this. You won, remember?

Why begrudge us the comfort of the sovereignty you so fussed about when you still believed that the EU had actually taken it? We have humiliated ourselves, yes. Plenty. But not by this vote. Our country has acted “in accordance with its own constitutional requirements” as Article 50 expects. The EU respects this. How can you so despise Parliament for simply doing its job – its patriotic duty? Why are you not more proud? Why so much paranoia over a victory that you, too, will benefit from? Do you no longer want us to take back control? What is wrong with you?

***

[A link to this prolific and pathetic rag? Ok, then. Here]

Chris Grey: Two cheers for amendment 7 – “All it really opens is the tiniest keyhole of possibility for affecting what happens with Brexit… This has been so ever since Article 50 was triggered”

Daily Mail – Junk Mail

Bigot

You can keep your tiny boxes
To yourself, my fundamental fool
Along with all the certainty
In which you have been schooled
For if I thought obnoxious doctrine
Was a relevant life tool
I’d’ve gladly walked the catechism
Of my own accord

So you can take your pious overreach
And shove it where imagination
Festers in your whimsy, flimsy,
Soul-refining mind and wind your neck in
Lest the reckoning
You beckon in is thine;
You mind your own soul, chum
And I’ll take care of mine.

I can do without your pity
And your precious little wisdoms
And your judgemental prescriptions –
You can stick ’em with
Your nonsense conscience
Where the sun don’t shine
Because, despite your crude reproof
I know I’m fine.

 

(Originally posted, August 2013)

Daily Mail – Junk Mail

It is because I love this land that I despise
Your dirty rag. It is because I love this planet
And humanity in all its hues that I have never
Purchased you. And yet your reputation,
So preceding is it, that I’ve never needed to,
For what you do and say is parroted from every
Right-wing quarter every day and poured into my
Eyes and ears by all your corporate, mainstream
Peers as though your narrow, xenophobic tract
Did constitute empirically known fact.

But you are everything you claim to hate –
So rabid in your enmity of citizens and State.
You make your living sieving any information
That ingratiates you to the racists, homophobes,
Misogynists, elitists and the nationalists who’d
Have us in our places. You are bigots with a
Passion for a petty use of microscopic focus;
You are locusts to the fields of understanding,
Tolerance, compassion and perspective; an
Invective to goodwill and unity and common
Decency.

You are the dumbest form of patriot, besotted
By false flags, nametags and high-horse myths
With which to moralise. It might be funny if your
Preaching wasn’t reaching the messiahs set on
Profitable power and the happy-to-be vacuous,
Enthralled and tooled up with perceived consent.
Yes, you’re a self-important vent to fundamental
Imprecision and pernicious propaganda for a
Willing and uncivil baying mob that sees a virtue in
The seizing of some value from your puritanic gob.

Bigot

You can keep your tiny boxes
To yourself, my fundamental fool
Along with all the certainty
In which you have been schooled
For if I thought obnoxious doctrine
Was a relevant life tool
I’d’ve gladly walked the catechism
Of my own accord

So you can take your pious overreach
And shove it where imagination
Festers in your whimsy, flimsy,
Soul-refining mind and wind your neck in
Lest the reckoning
You beckon in is thine;
You mind your own soul, chum
And I’ll take care of mine.

I can do without your pity
And your precious little wisdoms
And your judgemental prescriptions –
You can stick ’em with
Your nonsense conscience
Where the sun don’t shine
Because, despite your crude reproof
I know I’m fine.

‘The Sun’ is Low

The Sun is low; its shadow long
And unbecoming of the day.
No disinfectant shining light,
But channelling infected rays
Of everything that’s cheap and dumb,
For really, when all’s said and done
It isn’t telling anyone a thing of worth –
It serves no useful purpose
Other than to dish the basest dirt.

It’s like that clown on Facebook, who
Takes photos of their morning poo
Because it thinks its audience needs
Updates on their crappy views.

High agenda based on sleaze,
A story only gets the limelight
If it’s titillating news on A to Zed celebrities
Or serves the Rightist angst and Might.

“Place your bets and ‘ave a voucher!
Get your bread and circus ‘ere!
We’re not a public interest platform
Don’t ya know” –

Yep! Loud and clear!
Murdoch’s minions, scribal pinions,
Corporate mouthpiece at the ‘Gish’,
May you red-shift from dominion,
Lost in permanent eclipse.

Oh, Daily Mail

Oh Daily Mail, you never fail
To hurl your hateful bile.
The lengths you’ll go to,
Depths you’ll sink to,
To divide our British Isles.

You’re like a pack of dang’rous dogs,
Snarling, salivating, even,
As you choose your Dish du Jour,
Weaving bigotry galore –
Just to voice your crass assumptions
Irrespective of the facts –
Feeders seeking mass consumption
Of your mal-adjusted crap.

So up yourselves with indignations,
Planks form in your spiteful eyes.
You take a teeny speck of truth
And loosen with dictated lies,
Then, dolloping with ill-informed
Opinion, calmly generalise.

All you know is pettiness
And gross ambition for sensation,
Signifying nothing more than
Tawdry, superficial piffle
Based on wild extrapolations –
Never missing any chance to
Incite eejits with conflation.

Braying at the cellulite; the cup size
Of some poor old cow
Spread-eagled through your poisoned print
That judges what is “public interest”
By the mileage you can mint
In spite and groundless vitriol.

Discarding all integrity;
Forsaking grace
For prejudice and other nasty schisms,
As you waive away your intellect
For bloody awful journalism.

Oh Daily Mail! You parable!
You’re fecklessness perfected!
A pedlar of our new age ills;
Pervasiveness personified;
Exemplar of the modern shill;
A very paragon of everything
That’s so defective.