The Daily Mail newspaper is a bit like some mad old great-aunt with whiskers, who lives very far away and you hope never to have to have to (repetition – tick) stay again. She wags her finger at the kids of today and is totally out of touch with things that matter to me (and to you I hope). By the way, this is hardly a post, it is just an irritating thought I want to be free of – call it a confession!
So obviously I don’t buy it. No, if I buy it will be the hideously expensive but far more enlightening Racing Post, or occasionally a Guardian or Independent or Times. I would not part with money for the Mail (and if Emily pops onto the comments to say she’s seen me do that more than once – well don’t believe her ;-))
But, in an attempt to infiltrate our unsuspecting homes you can get the Mail free @ the gym and the OH drags it home with him. Or maybe it just jumps in his gym bag. Either way it sits on the coffee table, like the elephant in the room peddling its right wing, illiberal values until eventually you pick it up for a flick just to check what is going on in that whiskery old head.
I can report back – not a lot, the usual, so vapid and vacuous that I can’t even remember a word of it. And then (and I know I am starting all kinds of sentences with conjunctions but it’s ok because it is coming back into fashion and I seek to maintain an easy conversational style) the killer punch – in the Femail (ughh) section because we need our own bit as the big news is far to manly for us – an article on wrinkle creams that really work and wait for this; they AREN’T always the most expensive ones! Well there you have it I was hooked.
My OH has another habit too. Not only does he cart the Great Aunt home in his stinky gym bag, he also boots her in the bin the very same day. Don’t most of us let the newspaper hang about a day or two at least? The upshot is that I can’t remember which was the cream I should be buying to iron out my wrinkles and the bearer of glad tidings (this once) has gone off in a pink sack for recycling by Cory.
Don’t worry though if you don’t read the Mail (or remember what you read in my case) I have found the source of the story here:
which all goes to show it is a waste of time reading the Daily Mail (even the free copy) and I should start a subscription to Which? Like my Grandpa did. And nip and buy some Simple moisturiser for £3.21 before I forget.