Regular visitors to this blog will be familiar with Pats’ story. Here she describes how negative reporting has angered her.
Guest post by Pat Onions
Dear Mr Editors of Mail and Express
I am by nature a peaceful person. I abhor bloodshed especially my own. I will not put up with cruelty to dogs and violence to other human beings makes me very sad. Strange then that I should have chosen to spend all my married life with someone who served in the Armed Forces?
Many things make me angry though and people who park half on the pavement and half on the road evoke those feelings in me. This is especially true when the owner of the offending car says…”Every one else does it….love.” Ah so that makes it alright?
No it doesn’t. They know it is wrong to block the pavement completely although often ignorant as to why. Pedestrians or pram users would not measure on their scale as pavement users, and if a wheelchair comes along? Oh…you know the same old same old. Mind you Mrs half on would probably tell her offspring to ride bikes on the pavement because it is safe. Mr half on half off would never park on the road in case their precious car is scratched.
Mr half on half off does something because ‘every one else does.’ It is called a band wagon and it seems the members of the press have found one to jump on off, on off, on off, on off. I am getting very dizzy.
Scroungers, cheats, fraudsters, spongers, loafer, work shy, scum….hang on a few more coming through….Bromus secalinum, vetch, bearded darnel. Hold it, that’s not right? Ah yes. A bit of my Latin and horticulture creeping in.
“Cheat is a ‘weedy annual native to Europe.’ ”
I think that sums me up very nicely. I can say that about myself. I can say anything I like. Happy today. Feeling good today. I was sad yesterday, cold and hungry. I can say I am good looking and bear a remarkable resemblance to Penny Lancaster. I don’t but I can still say it because she is married to the other man I love..! I don’t hurt anyone with these words and only lie when I say I am very slim…. really.
What gives the gentlemen, and heaven forbid, the ladies of the press the right to talk about me as if I am something that came out of a cow’s backside? When, yet again, I hear words of one or maybe two syllables, which are repeats of words I heard yesterday, the day before and the day yawn. before that. I get bored. Repeats on TV bore me. Maybe a classic film like The Great Escape…..(Ooooh didn’t we always hope, by watching the repeats, that Steve Mc Queen would get over the wire but he never does.) There may be a line or two that you missed or a particular scene that was breath taking that made you watch it every Christmas.
Mail yawn. Express bigger yawn. I do hope I have their names correct I would hate to offend their editors. I never read them. They don’t interest me just bore me with the words ‘EXCLUSIVE’ written all over them. So ‘EXCLUSIVE’ the same story is on the main morning news.
I hear yet again how someone, disabled of course, has made something of their life. A Famous for being Famous someone who hurtles at great speed around a race track propelled along by the strength in their arms. The question is asked of me “ Why aren’t more disabled people like that?” Probably because that person was born disabled and never knew any other way of living.
I can only speak for those of us who become disabled through no fault of our own and have to invent ways to survive. By the time we have come to terms with what life has thrown at us we are either too old or too disabled to join in that race.
I can blow my own trumpet as, like the nice man from the papers, I am writing this. I am as famous as that person in the sooper dooper turbo charged wheelbarrow.
I have 2 ‘famous’ claims that I will briefly mention. The others can wait. One was nearly 7 minutes of prime time terrestrial television. It showed me me me doing something I am VERY good at. My garden.
The second involved Royalty. me me me again and York Minster with huge amounts of flowers. I loved both occasions.
They were both me as a real person because that is what I am. A human being with a large bit of it kaput.
We all have stories to tell of our own Everests. That’s what makes us what we are. Some funny, some sad but all are from real people that are my friends.
Say something new by all means. Something I haven’t heard before. It doesn’t have to be all those childish repetitive names you keep churning out and out and out and out.
Do you care Mr reporter? Do you have any real friends? Do you know any real people who have bits missing, broken or dysfunctional bodies? Do you ever get off your botty and get out to meet these people you love to hate?
For goodness sake jump down from the band wagon before you fall off and your newspaper becomes just another pooper scooper to clear up the mess I trod in this morning. But then again we have an awful lot of cows next door so please keep producing your newspaper and I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, I will keep on putting it to good use.