I must admit, one of my failings is to peruse tabloids like The Daily Star and The Sun.
You're always guaranteed to read over-sensationalised articles that have little meaning in the broad
context of human societies, but they do imply having a simplistic barometer of 'good and evil' is a better
way to conduct one's lifestyle.
Words like 'outraged' and 'menace' -usually in capital letters, draws the reader into a world of vice,
corruption and a strange metaphysical tempo that indicates an ironic scheme that only the virtuous can
ignore -yet appreciate.
However, another theme runs alongside the gaudy stories and just by accident, I came across it many years
ago when I worked in the newspaper business. That of a pair of breasts being worth more than a murder.
.......................
Over a quarter of a century ago in a small isolated property close to where I live, a pretty forty-four year-old
married mother-of-three lady decided to grab some sun on the large grounds of her luxury home on the
outskirts of a small town.
![[Image: attachment.php?aid=5003]](http://rogue-nation3.com/attachment.php?aid=5003)
It was a wealthy family with a husband who had children from a former marriage and ran a local haulage
business. The house stood alone between a town and a small village where her husband's company was
situated. A long driveway came from the busy road that connected the town to the village and a developing
airport.
Open fields surrounded the property and there were no neighbours, the woman must've appreciated the
privacy and in her bikini, settled down to acquire a rare tan from the summer sun.
It was the hottest day of August 1990 and sometime in the late afternoon, the woman decided she'd had
done enough sun-bathing for the day and retired to her cooler lounge, still in her bikini.
Around 6.00.pm, her husband of four years came back from his business and discovered his wife with her
throat cut and in a pool of blood. The radio was still playing, the dog asleep outside and the dead woman's
bikini-bottom had been removed.
There were no signs of a sex crime, nothing had been taken to imply a robbery and the pathologist stated
there was no indications of a struggle or being beaten. No weapon was found, which the same pathologist
believed was a Stanley-knife type or a cut-throat razor.
The murder hit the headlines and became national news. The deceased lady's husband became the suspect
in the media's eyes and even though a passing truck driver reported seeing a blue car leaving the peaceful
driveway at around the time of the killing, it was the husband who took the brunt of the accusations.
A friend of mine had been a photographer at where I was working and decided to seek his fame and fortune
in London. Pay was -and still is, higher in the capital and just like Dick Whittington, set out to improve his
future.
That aspiration led him to the doors of a well-known newspaper, The Sun.
Back then, page three of the tabloid offered its readers a topless model and it wouldn't be until 2015 that the
company agreed that having a bare-breasted female staring out at its customers above a serious article about
the struggles of the United Kingdom, was not true journalism.
But titillation doesn't go easy into the night and when a Sun Reporter was asked to visit the area of the murder
to write a story with something extra for its readers, my friend -the photographer, was also dispatched to get
some 'appropriate images' for the paper and to utilise his home-grown knowledge.
I spoke to him after he and his fellow-hearsay-monger had gathered what they'd believed was enough to get
the Reporter a column or two in The Sun and he explained how the word 'tawdry' was still alive and well in
Fleet Street.
By this time, it had been rumoured that the husband of the murdered woman had been having an affair with a
barmaid from a nearby golf-club and this morsel of gossip was enough to find the eager Sun Reporter and his
camera-carrying cohort knocking on the door of a woman twenty-three years younger than the man who was
supposed to be her lover.
The Reporter and his side-kick were invited in using the assurance that 'her side of the story' should be told to
let the readers know that in no way, was she any type of chess-piece on this particular board.
They chatted and when discussing how optics were vital to show the lover-barmaid's explanation of how the tryst
with the murdered woman's husband was ending, the Reporter suggested a photograph would go a long way to
enhance her innocent position in this incident
That's when the photo-albums came out. Pictures of the barmaid were displayed and it was only when one
particular snapshot showed the young woman at a fancy-dress party in a fetching basque-and-suspenders
outfit, did the Reporter bring up the subject of money.
One hundred pounds was the first offer for the sexy image and after consulting with his London-based Editor on
the telephone, the Reporter push to two hundred as a begrudging submission to the barmaid. What she didn't know
was that the Editor had said that no more than three hundred pounds could be used obtaining for the revealing print.
She took the two-hundred quid and I know for a fact how much the Reporter said he'd spent on the photograph and it
was exactly what the Editor had warned. The picture showed up the next day in an editorial that basically condemned
the husband and his family to a further tirade of accusations.
The company Director and the saucy thigh-showing Barmaid... nectar for the tabloids.
And that's what I meant about 'titillation', if you look today at certain mainstream media websites, the many articles
offer female semi-nude imagery and paparazzi-style photographs of celebrities in sparse clothing.
The murdered woman's husband was charged with the crime and then due to failure of solid evidence, was dropped.
The family members were broken because of suspicion in-and-out of their circle that one of their own could be the
killer and of course, moving away from the area was a must.
As of this writing, nobody has been found for the murder.
Still, the newspaper got its photograph and that's what really important, eh?
You're always guaranteed to read over-sensationalised articles that have little meaning in the broad
context of human societies, but they do imply having a simplistic barometer of 'good and evil' is a better
way to conduct one's lifestyle.
Words like 'outraged' and 'menace' -usually in capital letters, draws the reader into a world of vice,
corruption and a strange metaphysical tempo that indicates an ironic scheme that only the virtuous can
ignore -yet appreciate.
However, another theme runs alongside the gaudy stories and just by accident, I came across it many years
ago when I worked in the newspaper business. That of a pair of breasts being worth more than a murder.
.......................
Over a quarter of a century ago in a small isolated property close to where I live, a pretty forty-four year-old
married mother-of-three lady decided to grab some sun on the large grounds of her luxury home on the
outskirts of a small town.
It was a wealthy family with a husband who had children from a former marriage and ran a local haulage
business. The house stood alone between a town and a small village where her husband's company was
situated. A long driveway came from the busy road that connected the town to the village and a developing
airport.
Open fields surrounded the property and there were no neighbours, the woman must've appreciated the
privacy and in her bikini, settled down to acquire a rare tan from the summer sun.
It was the hottest day of August 1990 and sometime in the late afternoon, the woman decided she'd had
done enough sun-bathing for the day and retired to her cooler lounge, still in her bikini.
Around 6.00.pm, her husband of four years came back from his business and discovered his wife with her
throat cut and in a pool of blood. The radio was still playing, the dog asleep outside and the dead woman's
bikini-bottom had been removed.
There were no signs of a sex crime, nothing had been taken to imply a robbery and the pathologist stated
there was no indications of a struggle or being beaten. No weapon was found, which the same pathologist
believed was a Stanley-knife type or a cut-throat razor.
The murder hit the headlines and became national news. The deceased lady's husband became the suspect
in the media's eyes and even though a passing truck driver reported seeing a blue car leaving the peaceful
driveway at around the time of the killing, it was the husband who took the brunt of the accusations.
A friend of mine had been a photographer at where I was working and decided to seek his fame and fortune
in London. Pay was -and still is, higher in the capital and just like Dick Whittington, set out to improve his
future.
That aspiration led him to the doors of a well-known newspaper, The Sun.
Back then, page three of the tabloid offered its readers a topless model and it wouldn't be until 2015 that the
company agreed that having a bare-breasted female staring out at its customers above a serious article about
the struggles of the United Kingdom, was not true journalism.
But titillation doesn't go easy into the night and when a Sun Reporter was asked to visit the area of the murder
to write a story with something extra for its readers, my friend -the photographer, was also dispatched to get
some 'appropriate images' for the paper and to utilise his home-grown knowledge.
I spoke to him after he and his fellow-hearsay-monger had gathered what they'd believed was enough to get
the Reporter a column or two in The Sun and he explained how the word 'tawdry' was still alive and well in
Fleet Street.
By this time, it had been rumoured that the husband of the murdered woman had been having an affair with a
barmaid from a nearby golf-club and this morsel of gossip was enough to find the eager Sun Reporter and his
camera-carrying cohort knocking on the door of a woman twenty-three years younger than the man who was
supposed to be her lover.
The Reporter and his side-kick were invited in using the assurance that 'her side of the story' should be told to
let the readers know that in no way, was she any type of chess-piece on this particular board.
They chatted and when discussing how optics were vital to show the lover-barmaid's explanation of how the tryst
with the murdered woman's husband was ending, the Reporter suggested a photograph would go a long way to
enhance her innocent position in this incident
That's when the photo-albums came out. Pictures of the barmaid were displayed and it was only when one
particular snapshot showed the young woman at a fancy-dress party in a fetching basque-and-suspenders
outfit, did the Reporter bring up the subject of money.
One hundred pounds was the first offer for the sexy image and after consulting with his London-based Editor on
the telephone, the Reporter push to two hundred as a begrudging submission to the barmaid. What she didn't know
was that the Editor had said that no more than three hundred pounds could be used obtaining for the revealing print.
She took the two-hundred quid and I know for a fact how much the Reporter said he'd spent on the photograph and it
was exactly what the Editor had warned. The picture showed up the next day in an editorial that basically condemned
the husband and his family to a further tirade of accusations.
The company Director and the saucy thigh-showing Barmaid... nectar for the tabloids.
And that's what I meant about 'titillation', if you look today at certain mainstream media websites, the many articles
offer female semi-nude imagery and paparazzi-style photographs of celebrities in sparse clothing.
The murdered woman's husband was charged with the crime and then due to failure of solid evidence, was dropped.
The family members were broken because of suspicion in-and-out of their circle that one of their own could be the
killer and of course, moving away from the area was a must.
As of this writing, nobody has been found for the murder.
Still, the newspaper got its photograph and that's what really important, eh?
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.