It was once a huge surprise to me to learn that the news is a construct, that the media don’t just report what is going on in the world, although I am sure most of you are more m
edia savvy than I was. Now that the scales have fallen from my eyes, I am constantly intrigued by what is printed and what isn’t. There is an agenda and Max Clifford recently said that keeping things away from the media has become a bigger and bigger slice of his business. I am sure the red tops are extremely frustrated by the lack of information available in open court, but I think the Lineker’s
deserve their privacy.
That said, I have heard rumours about Gary Lineker’s infidelity for years, more than I care to remember for sure, and I am sure the newspapers must know if I do, so we could consider why they haven’t published anything and may still not. In these days of Hello magazine and a plethora of fuzzy paparazzi shots it is easy to think that we have access all areas, but stories are still spiked. It is interesting to consider why nothing has been written about Gary Lineker’s, is it just the knowledge that his Mr Nice Guy image is something the public don’t want to see dismantled. Or is it an image that is too much of a cash cow for anyone to risk shattering it. Vertical integration is rife in the media and damaging a brand has huge repercussions.
This is in stark contrast to the way Heather Mills McCartney has
been pilloried for having a life. Whatever the reality is, the NOTW now perceives her to be a wanabee we are ready to see brought down. She soared to dizzy heights when accompanied by McCartney’s fame, so has far to fall now that she no longer has the protection of his money. I seem to recall they weren’t that nice to Paula Yates once, but then she died and they had a tragedy to report on. What happens when if HMM has a purely human reaction, one I might have, and decides everyone hates her, on top of her failed marriage. What if she stops being able to hold her head up high, take care of her daughter, or survive; does it matter that the press has a hand in her fate. The whole of Fleet Street (as was) has always had material sitting in safes, waiting for the right moment, either to cash in on circulation or when the ‘public’ will find a story palatable.