Thanks for the mammaries, The Sun

Mills Strawberry
I’m going to resist the temptation to rave on about the Socceroos match, not in the least because I wrote something on football for tomorrow. Suffice it to say that it was one of the greatest experiences watching an Australian team I’ve ever had, and I will never disparage Mark Viduka again. And by “again”, I mean until he next misses a penalty. So instead, let’s talk about another fascinating, very hot and sweaty story out of Germany – the sex book published by Paul McCartney’s estranged wife, Heather Mills.

I’ve never seen a more blatant piece of hypocrisy than this article from The Sun, which absolutely goes to town on Mills. They slam her for appearing in lewd sexual photographs – and then reproduce them in high quality. And if that wasn’t OUTRAGEOUS enough, to print it the way the Sun website would, they followed it up with two separate stories featuring MORE of the filthy photos. Just in case we weren’t titillated – sorry, I mean appalled – enough in the first place.

“Many of the images are too explicit to print in a family newspaper,” it primly says. Family newspaper? We’re talking about one of the few papers in the world that not only still prints Page 3 girls looking almost indistinguishable from Mills in these photos, but operates an entire soft-porn website full of them. I’ve no moral issue with including a link to the site, by the way, because it’s part of a “family newspaper”.

What amazing hide to on the one hand serve as the UK’s leading distributor of titty photos and on the other criticise someone for photos where the only discernable difference is that there’s a partner. Which provides Mills with an excuse, which is that they were supposed to be educational – a defence that can hardly be made of the Sun‘s usual page 3 fare, unless you’re looking to be educated about just how ghastly breast implants can look.

The Sun has PROVEN that Mills’ photos AREN’T educational, though, by showing them to “Passers-by quizzed by The Sun on Britain’s streets”, some of whom stopped salivating briefly enough to condemn them:

Facilities manager John Bertram, 52, of Manchester, said: “It would need more text and less in the way of edible undies and thongs. In this situation Heather is definitely a porn star.”

Printer Andrew Love, 42, of Basildon, Essex, declared the book “fairly hard core”.

And engineer Stuart Lye, 31, of Chingford, Essex, said: “After ten pages it’s clear you’re not going to learn much with all these whips and things.”

Now that’s investigative journalism. But if that wasn’t enough to prove that this is porn, not education, the Sun primly points out that “The filthy volume features 112 pages filled with pictures — and contains NO accompanying words.”

Which, in another article saying virtually the same thing, affords a great opportunity for an activity The Sun likes only slightly less than reproducing mammaries – German-baiting:

The German book featuring Heather contained page after page of no-holds-barred images with
NO WORDS. Mr Page said: “Maybe they do things differently in Germany.

When you click on the photos, though – which are helpfully included just in case we doubt their SHOCKING nature – suddenly the tone changes to the jolly, blokey lads’-mag caption tone they use for their own smut. Forget the condemnation – there are lame Beatles puns to be made:

  • Get back … Blonde claws co-star with scarlet-painted nails
  • Oil you need is love … Nude Heather smears lotion on fella’s body during shoot for book, published in 1988
  • Strawberry feels forever … suggestive porn snap with male co-star
  • You’re Going To Lose That Girl … unless you handcuff her!
  • And worst of all: … Card Day’s Night … strip poker by any chance?

They only remember to condemn their high-resolution immoral photo specials in one or two pictures. But even then, they won’t stop the crappy puns. Hence “Ticket To Ride … another shameful picture”.

Other than conceding it’s quite amusing that the squeaky-clean Paul McCartney’s wife was in cheesecake shots, I find it hard to care less about this story. And neither, I’m sure, does the paper’s readership. What they do care about, though, is maximising their breast-viewing opportunities. And that is why, ultimately, Rupert Murdoch is a media genius like no other. He’s not afraid to get his tits out. And if it means mounting a campaign against smutty photos to provide the opportunity, then so much the better. Sorry, I mean to say – that’s so much the BETTER.

Dominic Knight

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