One of my favourite topics: the Daily Mail!
I’m not going to lie, I love the Daily Mail. Despite a rabid hatred for right-wing opinion in general, there’s someone about the Daily Mail I just find… charming. While satirical channels such as Fox News accurately mock right-wing table-thumping, you can’t beat the real thing. Good old paranoid, Middle-England, bigotry.
The Mail doesn’t have a great history, I admit. That support for “Adolf The Great” and the Brown-shirts in the 1930s probably didn’t exactly improve their public image. Still, you can’t win everything. But there are certain things the Mail has been right about:
- Foreigners have indeed stolen all of our jobs.
- Speed cameras have killed more people than Chairman Mao
- We live in a Communist dictatorship run by do-good liberals
- Homosexuality has been scientifically linked to death
- Richard Littlejohn does indeed have a little John.
However one issue the Mail hates is this damn permissive society. One where women go round in short skirts and those poor men can’t help but rape those vile temptresses. Their conservative family values don’t look highly upon sex education, infidelity or the “sexualisation” of our society. All of which makes the Mail a hilarious read, because it is second only to the Sun in amount of totty on display.
For example, in this review for “Secret Diary of a London Call Girl” the Mail looks down upon miss Piper’s activities, as well they might, the whore. But mixed in with all this moralising, is some quality wank material.
The opening picture is a good start
“In white lingerie and a pink robe, Belle is confident that she will soon remind him of what he has been missing.
Talking to camera, she says: ‘It’s so sad when they’re like that. Give me an hour with him, he’ll be a new man.’
But as the action hots up, Simon reveals he has a penchant for the farm yard – or rather pretending to be an animal.
He says: ‘Let’s do it like dirty dogs. You dirty cow. You little pig. You dirty, dirty, dirty goat.’”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
“Belle obliges him, replying: ‘I’m so dirty. I’m a goat. I’m a chicken. I’m a dirty ewe.’
In a scene which becomes increasingly humiliating, she has to fulfil the wish of her paying customer when he asks her to ‘bleat like a sheep’.”
Don’t stop. Don’t stop. You’re a dirty ewe. Yes, you’re a dirty yew
Ohhhhhhhhh. Ahhhhhhhhhh. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.
The moment I read that article my initial reaction was something along the lines of “Damn I’ve got to see this.” They did one Hell of a job advertising the program (which, incidently, is definitely worth catching and not just for a quick knuckle shuffle)
So I don’t know what the Mail wants me to think. On the one hand they’re really not down with this kind of thing. No sir. But if that’s the case, why go in to such detail and show us the pictures? It’s like arguing against eating meat while holding a burger in front of someone’s face. Arguing against sex while tossing them off. It just doesn’t work, except to confuse me to masturbate furiously to expel my anger, which on reflection, is probably their aim. And one I salute.