The Latest (Column): A wake up call to British cynicism

Adapting a post from my blog to cover a topic I thought was quite important, I tackled the cynicism found in Britain today. Check it out at The Latest or below!


The most disorientating moment of the last few months happened to me in the early hours of last week. Roughly one hour after falling asleep, the loudest thing I think I've heard since seeing Iron Maiden in 2003 had descended on the house. The fire alarm.

After the ten seconds it took me to realise that yes, it wasn't my personal alarm, I was angry. Nothing more, nothing less. Upon waking up earlier that morning, I never assumed that my house was engulfed in flames. I assumed straight away that the "fire" had started in the kitchen, without flames, from frying burgers that, for all intents and purposes, were still cooking.

Of course, it was exactly how I predicted.

After all was rectified and the code was put in on the utterly useless controls, I went outside to get some fresh air and calm down the shakes after having my ears subjected to temporary tinnitus by the screaming red foghorns that littered the house.

In a street with 60 houses, there wasn't a peek. No heads peering out of windows, nobody standing outside, no-one nearby to enquire about what could have been Carrie recreating the prom blaze in our homestead.

Ultimately, nobody cared. And you know what? I don't blame them.

The amount of times we've all walked past houses where the alarms are going off is in the dozens, I'm sure. Hearing a car alarm in the street doesn't even attract a curtain-twitch. It reminded me of a time in 2003, when my college issued rape alarms to all and sundry for their protection, resulting in the surrounding area becoming an orchestra of intolerably loud beeps for a week, ultimately undermining the whole safety measure. It's like the boy who cried wolf. Well, the girl or boy who falsely cried rape.

We are completely numb to the safety systems put in place by, ironically, ourselves. The things we hope will deter others or attract attention are effectively superfluous - bought under what can only be described as socio-cultural pressures to defend oneself.

Whatever happened to the days when we cared about each other? The culture of the have-a-go hero has been consumed by self protection issues instilled in our brains over fears that we may be physically harmed or become criminally liable in some way.

It's gotten so bad that people have been instructed by the British Embassy to do the following if they are the victim of rape when travelling abroad:

Consider beforehand what you might shout to attract the attention of other people. For example, in English-speaking countries you may receive more attention if you shout 'fire!' rather than 'help!'

Yes, consider what you say while somebody tries to sexually assault you - it's only polite, after all.

What a cynical world we live in.

The Latest (Column): If you love news, don't be a journalist

After experiencing the real world of journalism through my work at my news agency, I decided to write about the effects of it all on my taste for news. It may not sound too positive, but it's all true! Read it below, or go to The Latest to read more!


I realised last night what my job had turned me into. Sat in bed listening to the radio, I heard that Morgan Freeman had been in a car crash, his condition was serious but that he was stable. It was the first piece of news in a month that genuinely made my heart jump with the thrilling mixture of shock and excitement.

Before I started working as a journalist, I used to get that with most stories across any field of my interest, which was most things: entertainment, sport, current affairs, music, film… you name it.

However, as I now read up to 75 or 80 stories a day from my desk, I don't have time to be interested in news. That is - of course - unless it interests my client.

As a writer for a news agency, I'm not a textbook journalist - the stereotype does not apply to me. Ultimately, I write for and interact with nine clients across a diverse field of subjects, including mortgages, construction, online gambling, trade unions and sleep.

I suppose the idealistic and hopeful journalists-to-be may criticise this. It won't help when I add that I write up to 25 articles a day - since labelled "churnalism" by several people - but the truth of the matter is that many "real" journalists may cover less in a day of things that they are not interested in - I'm perfectly happy in what I do and I do enjoy it.

The rate of knowledge absorption is off the scale. Within a month I have learned the intricacies of conservation and energy efficiency. I know where to get the best two-year fixed-rate mortgage (if still possible). I even know the effects of the credit crunch on the holiday industry and, as a result, where the best driving holiday in Europe is.
It's the little things, right?

Well perhaps not. I've noticed a worrying pattern emerging. To be a journalist - especially in the volume that I process - you have to be only interested in your assignments. It's the same in any journalism job but with the amount of deadlines I have to meet, I have probably experienced similar in a month to what a regular newspaper journalist would see in a year - and my attitudes have adjusted accordingly.

As much as I may be labelled heartless by some, I didn't feel anything for the situation over in Antigua where the newlyweds were shot dead. As awful as it is, I did not react aside from wishing a painless death to the husband who, if he survived, would probably not want to live anyway. Similarly, hearing about 16 Chinese policemen getting slaughtered at the hands of a pair of terrorists did not even raise an eyebrow.

The bottom line? When you work in news, you're no longer surprised by it. When you're not surprised by it, you have no emotional attachment to it.

Before I started work with the online agency I work for, I thought I'd never get sick of news. When you work in the industry, you pray for your work to be made easier by relevance - everything else is superfluous.

So when I hear news about the mortgage market in its death throes, I find myself rejoicing. If I hear that the credit crunch has resulted in widespread, country-demobilising strikes, I relax more. When MRSA is wreaking havoc in hospitals and care homes, I feel comfortable.

News is brilliant until you work in it. After that, you're desensitised to everything and find yourself enjoying socio-economic disasters. Why? Because that's the news that really affects us, except it's my job to write it - not get worried by it.

It's akin to a policeman counselling every victim of a crime; a soldier lamenting the loss of every adversary they've shot; a pathologist learning about the life and personality of each motionless piece of meat on the slab. If you get too involved in things that do not concern you in your first port of call as an employee, the quality of your work will drop.

To all of the budding journalists out there - the world of news is never how it seems in the job description.