Home > Uncategorized > Won’t somebody please think of the superinjunctions?

Won’t somebody please think of the superinjunctions?

In a year of revolutions, tsunamis, nuclear scares, tory government and royal nonsense, the leading news in May has been….some possibly-unnamed people probably having sex. While this is a type of news always guaranteed to make the papers, this particular story has had a higher profile than even the usual stories about people having sex, because these sex-having people tried to stop us from reading about it in the papers. What a bloody cheek.

And isn’t it refreshing to see the great wave of public outrage against this infringement of press freedom? The rising power of social media has led the charge against these byzantine legal subterfuges employed by people wanting ‘privacy.’ As a wave of democracy tries to sweep the globe, so the people of Britain are rising up on twitter and in the football terraces, in zealous defence of freedom of information. For what democracy could function properly without knowing what lies behind these superinjunctions?

All of which utter nonsense helps to distract from the fact that what we’re so ardently defending is our right to read about people having sex.

Shouting about superinjunctions helps obfuscate this. It can be hard to sound reasonable while screeching that not being allowed to read about other people having sex violates your human rights. Superinjunctions, however, are the new masked foe of press freedom, which all reasonable people can take sides against.

It’s their own fault for going to such lengths to hush it up, I heard someone clarify yesterday. How dare anyone attempt to prevent their private life be sold by a parasitic press to a mindless public. How stupid of them to taunt that press with an unavailable story and how ridiculous of them to complain when a relentless press is supported by a public in search of puerile bullshit to feed their self-righteous appetites.

The truly nasty thing in all of this the genuine sense of ownership perfectly normal people seem to feel about a stranger’s life. It is our right to know, our right to judge, our right to publish, and our right to read. Our right to talk bollocks about it for hours as though it mattered, as though it was our business, and as though we had any fucking idea what any of it was about. And our right, as a society, to feel outrage at the idea that those people might try to deny us our insidiously petty demands to access ever prurient detail of their private lives.

But what about the rights of the poor individual who wanted to sell their story to the tabloid press, I hear you ask, if you are an idiot? For you I have no answer, other than that I strongly believe you should get your own press, made up of publications in which pointless stories about consenting adults’ private lives can be exchanged for attention. You could call them things like ‘Hello magazine.’ And then maybe the rest of the media could get back to the news.

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