The Daily Malice.
Any of the daily papers could be called the Daily Malice.
I quick peek inside you drink from a poison chalice.
Really happy , truthful stories are few and far between
If it has a happy ending it's not so likely to be seen.
A blazing inch high headline when discovered to be wrong,
Becomes a small retraction about twenty centimetres long.
If one paper prints a story for a lot of cash
The others all decry it and call the story trash.
I'd like to give them all up and throw them in the bin
But then I wouldn't get my crossword and that would be a sin.
So I skim across the malice and the sportsmen who have strayed,
The stories from the palace, all the boobies they have made.
I go quickly to the crossword, the bit I never miss,
There I wallow for a while and that's my Daily Bliss.
Jill West.
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