Wham bam! Sam Cam to be mam (she'll need a new pram)

Yesterday was a less-than-impressive day of headline punning.

If you listened carefully yesterday, you might have heard the sound of British sub-editors tapping keyboards with rare vigour. Samantha Cameron was (is) pregnant! But more importantly, here was an opportunity to pun with the kind of reckless abandon last seen when Michael Foot flew to Brussels to head an arms body, way back in the early 1980s.

Here was an alignment of several stars. The going-into-labour/opposition-to-Labour backbone of the thing, yes. But don't forget the bizarre rumours, vocalised by Ed Vaizey at the beginning of this month, that Mrs Cameron might consider voting for Labour in the forthcoming election, having voted for Blair back in 1997.

Don't forget that Sam Cam already has a headline-friendly nickname. Don't forget the way the Blairs were accused of milking the happy news of the birth of their fourth child, Leo, in order to cut through the universal paranoia that defined the final few months of the last millennium ("New Labour's Falklands, all the feel-good factor with none of the death", as Zoe Williams puts it in yesterday's Guardian).

Don't forget the shimmer of wordplay potential orbiting other pregnancy-related sort-of-words: duff, preggers, bump et al.

So, let's see how the nationals did. Let's see what the supposed best subs in the country managed to carve out of this 24-carat opportunity:

Times

"Sam Cam moves towards labour" and "Nappies at No 10"

Mark: 7/10. Nice use of the key ingredients and a little alliteration to finish.

Guardian

"Samantha Cameron's labour bombshell" and "Tories welcome bump in road to election"

Mark: 8/10. Strong opening and a complex take on the "bump" pun.

Telegraph

"Does my bump look big in this?"

Mark: 4/10. Off-topic and predictable use of the "bump" pun, almost certainly recycled.

Mirror

"Sam Cameron's back to labour"

Mark: 5/10. Vaguely confusing and potentially grammatically unsound.

Independent

"Samantha's baby blue"

Mark: 6/10. Original but a little half-baked.

Sun

"Wham bam! Sam Cam to be mam (she'll need a new pram)"

Mark: 8/10. Thrilling use of a single-sound gag again and again and again.

Daily Mail

"Sam's having a baby Cam" and "David Cameron thrilled as Samantha announces she's pregnant with fourth child and due to give birth in
September
"

Mark: 3/10. A poor man's Sun headline, followed by a catastrophic death of ideas. Fail.

Frankly, I feel a little short-changed. If, as Shakespeare's Feste asserts, "a sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the wrong side may be turned outward", then where are the good wits on our once-hilarious newspaper front pages?

Twenty-four hours on, the scale of the missed opportunity is even more apparent.

Readers of The Staggers, can you do better than eight out of ten?

Follow the New Statesman team on Twitter.

 

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An alternative Trainspotting script for John Humphrys’ Radio 4 “Choose Life” tribute

Born chippy.

Your mole often has Radio 4’s Today programme babbling away comfortingly in the background while emerging blinking from the burrow. So imagine its horror this morning, when the BBC decided to sully this listening experience with John Humphrys doing the “Choose Life” monologue from Trainspotting.

“I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got Radio 4?” he concluded, as a nation cringed.

Introduced as someone who has “taken issue with modernity”, Humphrys launched into the film character Renton’s iconic rant against the banality of modern life.

But Humphrys’ role as in-studio curmudgeon is neither endearing nor amusing to this mole. Often tasked with stories about modern technology and digital culture by supposedly mischievous editors, Humphrys sounds increasingly cranky and ill-informed. It doesn’t exactly make for enlightening interviews. So your mole has tampered with the script. Here’s what he should have said:

“Choose life. Choose a job and then never retire, ever. Choose a career defined by growling and scoffing. Choose crashing the pips three mornings out of five. Choose a fucking long contract. Choose interrupting your co-hosts, politicians, religious leaders and children. Choose sitting across the desk from Justin Webb at 7.20 wondering what you’re doing with your life. Choose confusion about why Thought for the Day is still a thing. Choose hogging political interviews. Choose anxiety about whether Jim Naughtie’s departure means there’s dwindling demand for grouchy old men on flagship political radio shows. Choose a staunch commitment to misunderstanding stories about video games and emoji. Choose doing those stories anyway. Choose turning on the radio and wondering why the fuck you aren’t on on a Sunday morning as well. Choose sitting on that black leather chair hosting mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows (Mastermind). Choose going over time at the end of it all, pishing your last few seconds on needlessly combative questions, nothing more than an obstacle to that day’s editors being credited. Choose your future. Choose life . . .”

I'm a mole, innit.