Today I had a letter published in our local paper, The Royston Crow, on the subject of fireworks and pets. Well, sort of published. Basically they’ve edited the buggery out of it, thus ensuring that the gentle folk of ‘Crow Country’ (Yes, that’s the paper’s tag for those fortunate enough to be in its catchment area), are protected from my attempts at the use of slightly rude humour to get my point across. My original letter went something like this:
Sir
The celebration of the failure of some Yorkshire bloke to blow up the Houses of Parliament 400 years ago seems to have lasted a couple of weeks, with the first fireworks launched in Melbourn on 29th October (I believe this was the school display!) and the last (I hope), on 12th November. Personally I reckon he should have been given a medal for trying rather than being tortured and hung, but there you go.
As a dog owner I am encouraged to be responsible and pick up my pet’s mess when out walking. This I do without fail as a consideration to the residents of my village. Unfortunately my dog, and other pets, are not given any kind of consideration when it comes to fireworks. Why is necessary to release fireworks on any day other than 5th November? Pet owners can prepare for one night of inconsolably scared cats and dogs, but it is unreasonable to expect us to employ safeguards over a period of 2 weeks.
Please can we ban fireworks on any night other than the 5th November as a reminder that we are supposed to be a nation of animal lovers. And if you want to see your little treasure’s eyes light up any other day, take them on a visit to Wood Green Animal Shelter or alternatively, stick a sparkler up their nose. That way we can all live happily ever after and, in recognition of this, I will continue to use little scented bags to remove my dogs mess from the village’s pavements.
Regards
Charles Letterman
You can probably guess the bits that were omitted, suffice to say the letter was published in a form that would even have struggled to get a giggle from canned laughter.
Now it’s possible that the editor found my attempt at humour extremely unfunny, and cut out the contentious references to protect my comedic reputation. However it’s more likely that she/he thought that Roystonians should be protected from such filth, and saw fit to enforce a moral censorship on my correspondence to prevent the inhabitants of North Hertfordshire gagging over their Battenburgs at such vile material.
There are many causes of the demise of local newspapers, but right up the top of the list is the decision by publishers to distribute their product for free, making advertising the sole source of revenue. This reflects an extreme lack of confidence that their newspapers contain enough quality content to make them worth purchasing. The editing of my letter is a very small indication of the anal way editors approach content, the lack of respect for the intelligence of their readers, and the lack of imagination to fulfil a basic responsibility they have to stimulate debate.
Then again, the same issue informed me that an episode of Celebrity Come Dine With Me was being filmed in the area, that ‘It’s time to dress up as Santa’, and that the ‘mystery picture’ on page two was of some houses in a nearby village.
Obviously all is well in Crow Country after all.