Media Law: The Verdict


The sun has been out in Salford (or at least it was until this weekend) and so I have been on my pushbike making the most of the good weather and my improved health after McNae-gate finished. A word for the wise, don’t try and answer your mobile while riding a bike through Salford, especially when negotiating traffic lights and pelican crossings. Had something gruesome occurred upon picking up the phone to my tutor I would never have found out that I passed both my law resits by more than just the skin of my red-wine and tea-soaked teeth.

I am rather pleased because I doubt my guts, heart and sanity could take a third round of that kind of revision. Seriously, I lost about half a stone in panic-tummy that week. I am assuming there has been some examining error so I’m keeping shtum lest word get out that Ross Burke is bemused by his disappointing results of 38% and 26%.

I’m painting a lovely picture of myself today. Weak bowels and yellow teeth. Not only that, I also have spots and one eyelid that looks different from the other one not to mention my double chin when I grin and my pointy nose. Why am I so concerned with the way I look today, you ask? Why! Because I have been editing my video assignment and so looking in slow motion, great detail and repeated one too many times at images of my face.

Its amazing how paranoid you become editing images of yourself. You feel compelled to re-shoot everything because you look so utterly ridiculous! I have never had a problem with my voice. I am not one of those people who listens to their answering machine message and goes “Oh! My voice is HIDEOUS! Do I really sound like that?”

No. I just can’t look at myself. I do have an aversion to reflected surfaces. Having serious acne as a teenager did that to me. But then as with Yasmina from The Apprentice, I think it gives us pointy-nosed, beady eyed girls that extra edge having suffered in the looks department and obviously not breezing through secondary school like the dewey-faced blonde girls who had boyfriends in the year above.

One of the reasons I wanted to be a journalist was to work in an industry where you had to steel yourself and be tough and not expect praise from simpering cliques of admirers. I know it sounds daft but having acne as a teenager really does help you build a personality and a drive. You know you’re not necessarily going to win them with your looks but look what else you have to offer!

So I should be indifferent to the odd acne scar but I still resent watching  my stupid head fluff its stupid script time after time. I know imperfect skin is in my genes and its my genes that will hopefully make me a good journalist… however my mother is a lawyer and I don’t think the law genes passed down at all well.

So pock marks for me are something I have for life, just like my law results. The verdict has been passed but the sentence now means that I am a serious reporter with no excuses to get my legals confused. Knowing that the work I put in makes me feel good when it turns out ok makes me want to serve a life sentence in journalism. To me there is no greater career. Its nice to knwo it is worth the pain and the torment… except its not being teased by boys this time, its heart palpitations, a dicky tummy and insomnia.

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