The Pseudo Magazine

This is what happens when you embark on a lost weekend. Read nothing but a couple of menus since Friday, saw nothing more interesting than a shrivelled Xmas tree on the pavement (where has it been?), and went and missed my big story in the Guardian.

Can't be bothered saying too much, essentially because I couldn't give a shit either way what Mark Lawson thinks. I won't be slating him for being a slapdash, do-no-research, knee-jerk kinda writer*, because that would open up some distinct pot/kettle dynamics. Good to know I have some salubrious company down here at the bottom of the liberal broadsheet letters page, anyway. I might even use the quote for publicity (UPDATE: scroll up, I already have).

I did have to chuckle, though, at his new-found faith in editors. I'd love to have chucked back at him the 1500 words I wrote for a broadsheet about a place I'd never even been to. Great quality-control there. Or the subs for another establishment rag who cut the first par off a piece when it was referenced twice further down.

He's welcome to his new found faith. I'll continue writing my own brand of spittle-flecked crap, and checking the quality for myself.

*Hypothesis: Lawson did no more than five minutes' research
Proof:
He loved the comedy value from ribbing bloggers with wacky pseudonyms.
He missed Nosemonkey out.
QED.