Paper Monitor
A service highlighting the riches of the daily press.
Yesterday Paper Monitor (somewhat tardily) celebrated the headline writers' art. Today, the picture desks provide little nuggets of joy.
"A fully clothed Vladimir Putin shows off his bowling action yesterday" - ah, the Times pokes gentle fun at both the Russian president and the media's recurring fascination with his topless holiday snaps in a picture caption.
And the paper finds a new twist on both wildlife photography and family snaps with its story about the meerkat at Longleat safari park that hijacked a camera left in his enclosure. After using it as a climbing frame, he rattled off a few pictures of his family (the collective noun for which is a mob). One is reprinted in the paper, and eagle-eyed readers may notice that the tiny photo credit reads "MONTY THE MEERKAT". Nice touch.
And the Independent, like Paper Monitor's friend and colleague Daily Mini-Quiz, illustrates the link drawn between E numbers and children's bad behaviour with a photo of a little un's birthday spread. Mmmmm, cupcakes and - it can't be - Cheezels. Anyone for elevenses?
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Ah, that's better. Paper Monitor never likes to talk with its mouth full - and while reading the Indy's A to Z of pop. Aware that its core readership is, perhaps unfairly, tarred with the brush of Donovan, the paper seeks to de-baffle those confused by press descriptions of the Klaxons, including this random collection of words: "A - acid-rave-sci-fi-punk-funk... specially devised by New Musical Express to describe the Mercury winners".
Proof indeed that writing about music is like dancing about architecture... or writing about fashion, a genre of journalism which could also use the same phrase to describe, say, this season's body-conscious bondage-gear dresses... and probably will try.
Paper Monitor notes that the ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ News website's entertainment desk resists the emperor's new clothes urge and calls a spade a spade - well, a rock band a in its coverage.
And with that, Paper Monitor leaves you as it dons its stone-washed jeans and boogies off to try and pull the Daily Telegraph, Dad-dancing at the disco.