Daily Papers
11:58 UK time, Monday, 29 January 2007
A service highlighting the riches of the daily press.
"Deeeee 93 in tha Celebra-ee Big Bruther huwse..." and still the papers can't agree on Jade Goody's boyfriend's name. Is it Jack Tweedy (Daily Mail, Times) or Jack Tweed (Independent, Mirror, Guardian)? It's a bit like all those years ago when no one was sure whether the Rolling Stones guitarist was Keith Richard or Keith Richards. Talking of which, one of Mr Richard(s) erstwhile colleagues in the Stones, a certain Mick Taylor - who? Clue: if it's a truly great Rolling Stones album, then Taylor will be on the credits - has been snapped by the Mail, returning from a shopping trip.
There's only one thing that the tabs love better than a rags to riches yarn, and that's when fortunes go the other way. Cue a picture of Taylor looking somewhat frazzled, strolling home from Asda. Note the supermarket name, employed here to subtle but devastating effect. Had it been Waitrose or Marks, the story would have had a different spin. But Asda...
Granted, Taylor, with his faded jeans and anorak, hardly exudes an urbane Mick Jagger-style glamour. But this seems to be classic example of a single snapshot being used to stand up an entire story. Remember that picture your mate took of you with droopy eyelids? It looks like you've been at the bottle all night, but actually you were just snapped mid-blink. Imagine if that ended up splashed across a national paper. Here we see Taylor, eyes shut, touching the temple on one side of his head. Yes, he could be pained at the thought he turned his back on the biggest rock band in the world (although, it being 30 years ago, he's probably come to terms with that decision). Equally, he could just be flicking his hair out of his eyes.
So what does the subject of this example of long lens artistry have to say about his sorry appearance? Precisely nothing. Instead, the Mail indulges in a spot of supposition: "His forlorn appearance suggested he may be regretting his decision [to quit the Stones]". And that's about it. There are a few words from a cab driver who takes Mr Taylor to his gigs, the owner of a club where he performs, and a local from his village. But they all seem to say that he's pretty happy with his lot.
Let us be thankful for small mercies - in this case there are, at least, no tortuous puns on satisfaction.
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