Life and death on the Evening Beast

Abstract

The Grey Cardigan emerged blinking into the spotlight 18 months ago in the pages of trade magazine Press Gazette as an antidote to the soulless, journalist-free news factories that seemed to have taken over large swathes of our regional press. His view of life around him is undoubtedly jaundiced, but hopefully any bitterness is tempered by a true love of the newspaperman’s craft: the black arts of em rules and spikes, of cut-throat competition and the ever-ticking clock – many of the things that have left us poorer by their absence... Here, Mr Cardigan recalls items from a column that resonates with many older print journalists and, reflecting on his present job at the fading Evening Beast, writes: “It wasn’t always thus. I’ve chased Ronnie Biggs around Rio, I got the second interview with Terry Waite and I was on the back bench the night Kelvin [MacKenzie, then editor of The Sun] decided ‘Gotcha’ was an appropriate way to mark the deaths of 368 Argentine sailors. After dropping to the regions, I’ve survived pods, modules, and no-sub newsrooms. And I’m still here. For another few years, anyway, unless the management consultants find my hiding place. I’m not ready to fall on my spike just yet.”