Good evening, and welcome to another episode of ‘The Dark Side of TOAD.’ I’m your host, Elest Ali, and I approach the task of writing this Last Word with some trepidation. Why? Because my editor refused to run my previous Last Word and has warned me that I should refrain from any independent thought while composing this one. Which brings us to the topic at hand: censorship at TOAD.
Just how much are we allowed to get away with here at Time Out? Not much at all, really. For example, the other day the word ‘vampire’ got scrapped and only because Editor is fully aware that my use of the word is tinged with a note of enthusiasm. If our music & nightlife editor were to use the word, it would doubtless be with an element of distaste, in which case ‘vampire’ wouldn’t get the axe – but show a little enthusiasm on the topic and chop! See what I’m getting at here?
A conversation about the issue with our sub resulted in ways I could express inappropriate situations which would save them from Editor’s censorship. Terms like, ‘underwear malfunction’ emerged and Elest took notes. ‘Are you really going to write your Last Word about censorship?’ Sub asked, nibbling on a bit of crudités. She had homemade hummus for lunch.
‘Yep,’ was Elest’s response, a gleam of insanity lighting up her eyes.
‘You’re digging your own grave!’
‘I have a penchant for graves.’
‘Why don’t you write about your flat-hunt?’ Our sales guy interjected, as he often does. Today he was sporting a red nose – the result of sunburn over the golf weekend. ‘Or how you spent the first three days at your new job smiling, so everyone thought you were nice..?’ He could be rather snide like that.
‘Boring!’ Elest continued to type away with much zeal at a Last Word that was so edgy it would make global headlines and go down in history as the most controversial piece of the 21st Century! It went something like this: [Censored]
Come deadline, Editor called Elest into his office.
‘What is this?’
‘Dude, you’re clipping my creative wings! I’m wilting here! Wilting, I say!’
Editor turned his computer screen around to show a picture of a very disinterested looking ‘lolcat’ with the caption: I care about your problems, really! ‘Point taken.’ Elest sulked.
‘As a piece of writing it’s great, but do you want me to tell you everything that’s wrong with it?’ Even though Elest shook her head ‘no’, Editor detailed all the reasons why she was crazy if she thought she could get away with this. Elest flinched until she was cowering in a corner.
‘Now,’ Editor said with satisfaction, ‘would you like to play tick-tack-toe?’
‘No,’ Elest sulked again.
‘Oh go on,’ Editor said, in an older-brotherly fashion.
‘Ok, but if I win, you publish my Last Word as it is!’
‘Hah!’ Editor guffawed, ‘fine.’ Either he was overly confident, or was undermining Elest. ‘And if I win, you give me 20 push-ups and write something about flowers, ponies and sunshine,’ he quipped.
‘Can I write about fluffy kittens and child-labour instead? I like fluffy kittens… and children when they’re in abject poverty.’
‘No. Flowers and sunshine.’
It was a risk Elest had to take. Freedom of expression and the good of mankind were at stake. ‘Agreed’.
The outcome was a tie. So this is what we ran with.
