The idea of this post is to confess, blab about your failings, tell people you’re human. This already feels uncomfortabe…
When covering a court case as a junior reporter I wrote that the defendant was within a ‘hare’s breath’ of *insert punishment for menial crime here, I can’t remember the details* What, in fact, I should have written – and was pointed out to me by the smirking subs’ desk – is that the magistrate actually said ‘hair’s breadth‘. Duh.
Man found hanged
Sometime later, as a deputy editor, my headline on a story about a man who killed himself in the car in his garage – suicide by intoxication – was ‘Man found hanged’. I’d read the story, knew what had happened but for some reason typed in ‘man found hanged’ in the headline box and, wowsers, it was a perfect fit! What’s more amusing is that the reporters who proofed the pages didn’t pick up on it AND neither did a SINGLE reader. Amazing. Lucky for me it was the same week as my editor made a typo in a headline which should have read ‘Grass cutting’ not ‘Grass c*nting’. That one made it into FHM magazine.
Falling in love
When I was in high school I was delighted to be friends with one of the hottest guys ever, in the year above me. Trouble is, I was always ‘the mate’ and never the girlfriend. So I was a smitten kitten when Nicky – that was his name – challenged me to a race on the playing fields one lunch time. I’d won the 100 metre sprint at the recent sports day and he reckoned he could beat me. I knew he couldn’t. So we raced, to the amusement of our friends who were watching. I was ahead of him, the finish line was in site, when… he took my legs from under me and I went FLYING. Arse over tit, skirt not covering the bits it should, face utterly red. I laughed it off with the others but I was DYING inside.
Tale of too many tissues
During my journalism training we visited a prison and had a look around a lifer’s cell – which was rammed with boxes of tissues. I stupidly piped up, a bundle of nervous enthusiasm, and asked what all the tissues were for. “Take a look at the walls love,” said the warden guy, as I glanced up at poster after poster of nude women. Ah, nuff said. *Red face*
I was the only person in my year to fail my science GSCE. I took the top paper (why did you insist Mrs Miller, you silly teacher, you!) and so the lowest grade I could have got was a C. I missed out and even after a remark, failed by two points. If I’d taken the lower paper I could have scraped a D. I am very BITTER about that.