Morning Cuppa

 

‘This won’t do,’ the newspaper’s proprietor remarked softly to the editor.

‘If only he would raise his voice in anger or sound unreasonable,’ the editor thought.

He tried to reason, ‘People want the truth.’

‘And the sensational stuff,’ the proprietor agreed before adding, ‘but, let’s give them what they need.’

‘But…’

The older man held up a hand, ‘Young man, which would you prefer early morning: your wife giving you an update of all the problems, hers, yours, the kids’, or giving you a sweet kiss with the morning cuppa?’

‘I am unmarried, sir, and no kids so far, I think.’

‘Ok, your lover then. You do have one, don’t you?’

‘Well, the kiss and the coffee, perhaps…’

‘Exactly…! Look at the news we print. Take this: 200 girls abducted for slave-trade. Can you enjoy coffee with that? How about: 200 girls shifted to a religious camp? And, this preposterous one: thousands of minority community hacked, disemboweled and burnt alive in communal riot. Isn’t it enough to say: skirmish between communities results in casualties in both camps? Won’t the kiss feel better?’

‘But, sir…’

‘I know that you are having an affair with my wife. Oh no, I won’t kill you if you carry on. I might give you a friendly farewell from the top floor. Doesn’t that sound better?’

‘Yes, sir…’

‘Very good, I knew you would agree. My morning cuppa will taste better from now on, I am sure. I might even get a kiss.’