“My common sense piece, on a really popular topic, which needs addressing by at least twenty different people- across various media, apparently.”

 Additional bit below the headline and before the piece, which is make or break as to whether you bother to read on. Sometimes a quote, sometimes a bizarre interpretation of your piece which bears no relation to it, dependent on whether or not the sub-editor hates you.

I begin but you should know that I was very low down on the list. My agent has been pushing for this for a while and here it is my big break. My very first Column for The Daily Rant. If I'm any good they'll make a me permanent,  I just know it. Melanie, Liz, Jan and  dear "pretty yet hated through jealousy" Samantha, girls you are my idols and GUESS WHAT? I'm one of you now.
Budge up and let's plan a Spa day. 

Why little old me? Well, I'll tell you for why.

The favourites for this piece are all at some-or-other late season media/literary festival, (yuck) so I’ve grudgingly been asked to write this by a twelve year old editor, who hates me and everyone else now, because they couldn’t get the time off to go to the God awful thing. BUT WHO CARES I"VE ARRIVED DEARS

I must first give you an anecdote of something that happened to me once. This  makes no sense at all but will shortly become clear after I bridge the chasm between your patience and my own ego, and actually get to the point.

This is where I reiterate my first point of nonsense and when the link to the topic at hand becomes clearer. 
I add a jaunty gag of self-deprecation. 
Then I continue with my serious-faced honesty in “punchy yet heartfelt” (and understanding) sentences of wonder.

The following passage is where I finally address the topic de jour. All people of common sense understand it already, but it apparently needs thrashing to a painful and bloody death, by every media outlet under the sun.

In order to seem fair and even-handed, I will of course hold back and demonstrate how open I am to new “ideas and concepts”.

It’s PC gone mad really but my management people have suggested I “dial down the ranting” now that I’m the "Mum of the Nation", after my notorious appearances on daytime telly show "Now Then, Britain". If these hairy lay-abouts that seem to comprise the audience of "Now Then, Britain" were actually my children, I would have put them up for adoption.

I get loads of good stuff by lifting it from a some shoddy little blogger with a few followers and tinker about with the sentence structure. They'll never tell and even if they do HARD (British) CHEESE. I'll be thousands of hits in and well paid so if they're desperate enough to put it in the public domain for free, well then they get what they deserve.

Quick break while I go on Twitter just to check the status quo and to check that my own take is still the popular one. (Tick VG) Whilst on Twitter I get sidetracked by someone who isn’t anyone, so I announce that “I’m far too busy to be bothered with this” and nip over to Mail Online Sidebar of snide for a quick nosey.  I Lol my head off at all the cougar cellulite on show (girls honestly decorum please you must be thirty five if you’re a day), register shock at something exaggerated, then realise I haven’t finished my column.

I’m back for the next bit. Here I detail my total understanding of all the issues raised.  I’m going to slide in a couple of links here. I don’t like them, you don’t read them, but for some reason known only to online editors, we have to have them.  I like to call them pointless.

I’ve suddenly realized that I’m nearly at my word count and I’m only half way through making my very caring compassionate point so I’ll add another pointless link (which I now see the point of) and I also need to be a lot more caring face because otherwise I might lose the support of a group who I’m desperate to keep in with. God alone knows why but my agent says so.

I conclude by repeating the points, which could have taken half the time to make but wouldn’t have made me sound half as knowledgeable or caring faced about, and I chuck in another self-deprecating, whimsical aside.

Send. Then refuse to engage below the line. Don’t they know who I am Dears?

*This piece is reproduced here with the kind permission of The Daily Rant where it first appeared. Due to the lack of venom, spite or discernible attack, interest from our readers, the traffic it generated was too low to merit a further commission by our editors