When I was a child one of my favourite TV series was ‘Mission: Impossible’ (not the films – those came later.)
At the beginning of each programme a disembodied voice would say: ‘Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is…’ and I would be on tenterhooks lest they choose not to accept it and there would be no programme. In fact one week they did choose not to accept it, though thankfully they changed their minds a moment later. Phew! The music was thrilling and there was a fuse burning down across the screen – very exciting:
I must have had a deep attachment to programmes back then (I know my life was ruined if I didn’t get to watch ‘Batman’) but somehow as you grow up the attachment wanes: and one programme I have never been tempted to watch is anything with Matey Popkins on it. In fact I think as a media troll Matey should get as little publicity as possible, which is why I’ve given her a pseudonym, and why this post will self-destruct once it has been read.
The trouble with trolls is that they feed on attention, which is why it may have been a mistake for Theatr Clwyd to put on a play entitled ‘The Assassination of Matey Popkins’:
Of course Matey, impulsive little scamp that she is, didn’t trouble to find out what the play was actually about and turned up out of nowhere with a giant billboard saying something about free speech or whatever (yeah, yeah). But the trouble with satire is that unless you know it’s satire, it can look exactly like the thing you’re satirising: so that if all you know is the title, ‘The Ass of Matey Popkins’, rather than coming across as an examination of social media, seems like something much more sinister and intolerant.
Which brings us back to the world of dear old Matey – who has had enough publicity for one day and needs to go back to bed. Night, night Matey!
Please click the ‘like’ button, after which this post will self-destruct in ten seconds. Please stand clear of your computer.
Ten… nine… eight…