Disasters Inc

January 16, 2008

Life in media… it’s a mug’s game, no really, it is. What seems like an exciting and glamourous profession as a youngster can quickly evolve into a low-paid drudgery that offers little glamour, but much stress, donkey work and frustration. But at least it’s interesting, which you can’t say about working in a sausage factory, for instance. After being made redundant from Posh Tosh Media, Surrey, I have now gravitated back to working at Disasters Inc – your one-stop shop for any disastrous story. Whether it’s a flood;  bombing; volcano or plane crash, just tell me your story and I’ll make sure that it’s laid out prettily accompanied by the most high res gratuitous picture and a patronising comment from some useless head of police or other.  So instead of spending two hours a day talking to some overpaid PR at Poncy Motors, I now chase lazy American police chiefs for stories that could be about 9/11; 7/7, or perhaps even how to find a 7/11 for a late-night snack, doh! Houston, we most definitely have a problem.I’d actually always wanted to be a rock star as a child, up until, well – a few years ago really. My father thought it was a terrible idea, having attempted the same thing himself and urged me to choose something ‘respectable’.  I thought writing would be a good alternative as it afforded a certain amount of radical subversion, self-expression and rebellion, but being able to do it from the warmth of your very own computer screen. It also meant that you didn’t have to depend on several other bozos to turn up on time to guarantee your livelihood – and if something goes wrong, you can nearly always point the finger at yourself. Which in some situations, the former looks the more appealing.So now it’s the freelance life… and I’m pondering about which subjects to write about… hmmm, what about yoga? I teach, so this could be a possibility. Or music? But I’ve gradually lost touch with what the ‘scene’ is, so maybe that’s a no-go. Or maybe where to buy the best stationary? The best yoga  clothes? It really is a minefield and it’s like being all alone on a raft in the middle of the sea, with no rescue helicopter or lighthouse in sight and only wits (increasingly befuddled) to go on. 


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January 15, 2008

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