He was a very religious man and believed that Sunday (the Sabbath) should be a day for God, free of the trappings and distractions of the working week. Consequently, we weren't allowed a Sunday newspaper or to watch television on Sundays. When I pointed out to him the simple truth that he should forgo his Monday newspaper because men (and women) had laboured on the Sabbath to prepare it, I got a sharp clip around the ear!
He never read The Sun. The Guardian was his newsprint of choice. So this week's poem owes something to the imagination... but I like to believe he would have appreciated its sentiment. It's been on the spike for a few months, but this looks like a good opportunity to set loose this rant against the red top.
For those of you so minded, there is a campaign under way on Merseyside - Total Eclipse Of The Sun - aimed at persuading newsagents to boycott stocking The Sun on account of the way it originally 'reported' on the events and aftermath of the Hillsborough tragedy. Anyway, read the poem...
The Shun
Oh, and by the way,
when the Sun comes out today
don't stump up good money for a copy.
Don't even read it for free
in coffee shop or library.
Remember the lies it peddled
about Hillsborough,
pointing its crooked finger of blame
at Liverpool fans
under a headline proclaiming 'The Truth':
that they picked the pockets of victims,
that they urinated on the cops,
that they even gave policemen a kicking...
Sensational smears shift red tops!
Such cynical deference to the powers-that-be,
no reference to the statements that were meddled with,
no mention of the massive cover-up.
Shame on the despicable rag.
It's not fit to wrap round fish and chips.
My dad wouldn't even wipe his bum with it.
Solidarity with the 96, he said.
Heads in high places should roll.
Real truth is revolutionary
and it will take its toll.
Shun the Sun for starters, citizen.
Thanks for reading. Have a good week, S :-)
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