Rod Liddle on Blogging

The Englishman directs our attention to a piece by Liddle in the Sunday Times. As I refuse to pay for it, it remains behind the paywall, so all I have is the excerpt quoted, but it’s enough, frankly.

Just who is Guido Fawkes, aka Paul Staines — the semi-literate, extreme-right-wing, public-school-educated, foreign-born former bankrupt and convicted criminal blogger whose ineptly written innuendoes may yet put an end to the career of one of Britain’s better politicians, William Hague?
Well, Mr Staines is Bloggsville incarnate — the very essence of that vast network of talentless and embittered individuals tapping away at their keyboards in the intellectual vacuum of cyberspace, only occasionally leaving their computer screens to heat up a Tesco microwave-ready mini filled garlic and coriander nan bread with Indian dip selection (mango chutney, pickle, cucumber raita ©) before returning to spew out some more unsubstantiated bile.
This is anti-journalism, and nobody takes any notice of it — except, of course, the mainstream media and the government.

Okay, I can’t say I much like Guido either. Indeed, some of Liddle’s remarks regarding ineptly written innuendos strike home. I haven’t linked to Guido since his salacious gossipping over the Mark Oaten affair back in 2006. Now, while I have a healthy dislike of the political class and am quite happy to go for the jugular when they start trying to conduct our lives for us, steal from us, lie, cheat and generally behave like the criminals they are, I draw the line at unfounded tittle-tattle. Frankly, I despise Guido’s style; the very innuendo and gossip that Liddle rails against here, so I don’t link to him and no longer read him. If he exposes a real story of corruption, then fair enough, job done. The rest, I can quite happily ignore.

It’s why, in part, I’ve not commented on the William Hague thing. Sure, there may well be some valid questions about nepotism – so ask those questions, highlight that hypocrisy, but the sniggering over two men sharing a hotel room not only distracts from that issue, it’s an irrelevance. I don’t care if two men shared a room and I don’t assume that any homosexual activity took place nor am I interested in speculating on the matter.

As for the rest of Liddle’s little diatribe though, it’s almost impossible to know quite where to start. I mean, Liddle for Christ’s sake! Liddle! The epitome of gutter journalism, the very peak of intellectual vacuums, the master of unsubstantiated bile, is presuming to preach about others. As the Englishman succinctly points out, pots and kettles spring to mind. You almost have to stop and admire the sheer gall of the man.

What Liddle has done here is remind us that while we may despise politicians for their failings, their hubris, their arrogance, greed and criminality, they are more than matched by the journalists who are in cahoots with these poltroons. And at the very peak of this pile of fetid excrescence, like a diabolic homunculus on the top of the dung-heap is Rod Liddle. When it comes to talenteless anti-journalism we are mere amateurs who have much to learn from this master of the craft.