The Sunny Sun Sun

Outrage was sparked last night when The Sun was accused of being a real newspaper.

The Sun, a humorous adult comic, satirises the British tabloid press and the associated values of narrow-minded, mean-spirited racistsexisthomophobic sensationalism.

Written for a supposed audience of ignorant, prejudiced working-class stereotypes, the comic has been so successful that some appear to believe it to be a real newspaper (surely the highest accolade for satire). The comic’s fictitious editor, megalomaniacal tycoon Rupert Murdoch, is believed by some – even in the upper echelons of the political establishment – to be a real person.

Other fictitious characters created for the joke paper include Richard Littlejohn and Katie Hopkins, whose columns poke fun at the right wing press by positing views so extreme no one could ever really believe them, but which are in themselves the logical conclusion of mainstream right-wing thinking.  (The character of Richard Littlejohn is believed to be based on Jeremy Clarkson.)

No stranger to controversy, The Sun has goaded right wing extremists since its inception in the 1980s.  Many felt the comic went too far in 1989, with an article about the Hillsborough disaster which seemed to blame victims for their own deaths.  The paper kept up the pretence for around twenty years, before finally grudgingly breaking the fourth wall to admit that, of course, they didn’t mean it and obviously no serious journalist would make such callous claims about such a recent tragedy, involving nearly a hundred deaths, during an ongoing investigation into the causes, with absolutely no credible evidence and in such wilfully insensitive tones.

The editors of The Sun regarded the public apology as a betrayal of everything they stood for and a tragic break of character, but appeared to be victims of their own success.  The paper had taken on a life of its own, with readers not only routinely believing the ludicrous stories within, but also echoing the ridiculous opinions of the columnists in pubs up and down the country.  But especially in Surrey.

Another controversial front-page headline during the Falklands war described the sinking of a ship, by British forces, (killing conscripts from a country under military dictatorship) succinctly: “Gotcha!”

Other headlines had been more jocular, widely viewed as funny, such as the classic back page headline:  “Super Cally Go Ballistic, Celtic Are Atrocious”, after a Scottish football team with a funny-sounding name beat another Scottish football team.  (This was based on a true story – but, ironically, was deemed one of the less plausible articles in the paper, given the fact that some normal people found it genuinely funny.  And the lack of demonization of benefit claimants and asylum seekers.)

In 2005, however, The Sun launched its most daring piece of satire to date, when its’ “journalists” hacked into the voicemail of celebrities, terrorist victims and grieving families.  This audacious piece of public theatre received mixed reviews.  Many argued it simply went too far and was not proper for any publication, even one so irreverent and silly.  Others opined that its biting, caustic take on the practices of British investigative journalism was vital, timely and should prompt debate.  The piece raised many issues around press freedom, ethics, the 21^st century cult of celebrity, privacy in an age of digital communication and whether Steve Coogan had nobbed anyone you know.  (He probably had.)

The paper’s standard way of beginning articles has been a clever send-up of tabloid journalism itself, with phrases like “sparked outrage”, “it was claimed” and “X faced fury last night”, with no hint of who might be outraged, making claims or facing someone with fury.  Just an imagined readership, boorish, prejudiced and perpetually outraged. 

The latest row over the faux-puerile rag is a result of a story about the queen’s opinion on the upcoming EU referendum.  In a classic piece of Sun satire, the piece invited readers to believe in a realm where what the monarch thought – about anything – had any bearing on political discourse.  Buckingham Palace were quick to dismiss the claims, and have made a complaint to the new Independent Press Standards Organisation.  IPSO will now have to handle the delicate matter of tactfully informing the Palace that the article, and indeed, the paper itself, is a big joke and that obviously nobody gives a fuck what the queen thinks about anything.

With its colourful language, the paper has also managed to resuscitate the dying lexicon of Fleet Street, regularly using old-fashioned words such as the beloved “barmy”, “boffins” and “benders”.  The editor’s golden rule, that all articles must contain at least one example of alliteration, make it a staple for GCSE English Language students to deconstruct in an entirely unnecessary manner.

A source close to the editor of The Sun (let’s call her/him “a pal”, or “an on-looker”) said last night “The fact that anyone thinks it’s real is as hilarious as it is disturbing.”

The Sun’s editors are yet to respond to the allegation.